•',-;••-      •         •  .„-.-.... 


V 


TT     /*** 

il.  C. 


\- 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


The  Vice  of  Fools 


MR.  CHATFIELD-TAYLOR'S  BOOKS. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  CASTANET;     SPANISH  SKETCHES,   ILLUS 
TRATED.         I  2MO. 

TWO   WOMEN  AND    A    FOOL;     PICTURES  BY  C.    D.    GIBSON. 
l6MO. 

AN  AMERICAN  PEERESS;   l6MO.     WITH  EDGE  TOOLS;   l6MO. 


HARDY  STOOD  BEFORE  THE  KIKK." 


The  Vice  of  Fools 

by 
H.  C.  Chatfield-Taylor 

Illustrations  by 

Raymond  M.  Crosby 


HERBERT  S.  STONE  &f  CO. 

Chicago  £3"  New  York 

1897 


COPYRIGHT,     1897,     BY 
HERBERT    S.     STONE     &     CO. 


ps 


V 


"  OF  ALL  THE  CAUSES  WHICH  CONSPIRE  TO  BLIND 

MAN'S  ERRING  JUDGMENT,   AND   MISGUIDE  THE  MIND, 
WHAT  THE  WEAK  HEAD  WITH  STRONGEST  BIAS  RULES, 
IS  PRIDE,   THE  NEVER-FAILING  VICE  OF  FOOLS." 

— Pope. 


The  Vice  of  Fools 


"  SET  FORTH  IN  POMP  SHE  CAME." 
Richard  II.  v.  i. 

Official  Washington  was  huddled  in  the 
drawing-rooms  of  the  Secretary  of  War. 
All  sorts  and  conditions  of  bureaucracy  were 
there.  Lean,  litigious  congressmen  with 
shaggy  locks,  or  corpulent  and  pompous 
senators  with  radiant  bald  spots,  touched 
shoulders  with  cabinet  officers  and  their 
clerks,  while  scornful  diplomats  with  glit 
tering  baubles  dangling  from  their  coat 
lapels  mingled  with  officers  in  blue  and  gold 
and  everywhere  were  the  rustling  gowns  of 
pretentious  wives  and  pretty  daughters. 

These  people  smirked  and  nodded,  prat 
tled  and  jostled  with  the  gratifying  con 
sciousness  that  they  were  fulfilling  the 
function  for  which  the  chance  of  party  su 
premacy  had  chosen  them.  There  is  a 


2  THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

complacency  in  office-holding  which  is  per 
haps  reward  sufficient  for  the  labors  of 
government,  even  with  the  dread  spectre  of 
oblivion  hovering  near. 

Secretary  Duncan  and  his  daughter  stood 
together  receiving.  A  constant  stream  of 
people  poured  down  the  stairs  from  the 
floor  above  and  perfunctorily  shook  hands. 
The  presentations  were  being  made  by  a 
tall  young  cavalry  officer,  sturdy  and  erect, 
but  more  at  home  in  the  saddle  than  the 
drawing-room. 

"What  a  severe  expression  that  soldier 
has,"  said  de  Komlossy,  the  Hungarian 
Minister,  to  Mrs.  Cortland,  who  was  sitting 
with  him  on  a  divan,  watching  the  incoming 
crowd. 

Mrs.  Cortland,  a  New  Yorker  by  birth,  a 
cosmopolite  by  experience,  was  a  widow  of 
forty  who  had  chosen  Washington  as  her 
winter  home  with  the  expressed  intention 
of  being  amused.  Wealthy  and  childless, 
she  viewed  the  world  from  the  composite 
standpoint  of  a  beautiful  woman  and  an  ex 
perienced  man.  She  was  born  with  the 
tactful  genius  of  a  controlling  spirit  in  poli 
tics,  but  being  a  woman  she  contented  her- 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  3 

self  with  controlling  politicians.  In  figure 
she  was  a  girl,  and  in  spite  of  ten  years  of 
widowhood  and  twenty  of  social  vicissi 
tude,  she  looked  not  a  day  over  thirty.  It 
is  true  that  her  enemies  insisted  dark  tints 
were  discernible  about  the  roots  of  her 
golden  hair,  but  this  unkindness  was  caused 
by  jealousy  of  her  superiority — a  superiority 
attributable  not,  as  in  the  case  of  many 
women,  merely  to  artifice  but  to  a  rare  in 
telligence  and  a  natural  simplicity  and 
modesty  inseparable  from  good  breeding. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Cortland  replied  to  the  min 
ister's  remark,  raising  her  lorgnon  with  an 
interested  gesture;  "Jack  Hardy  would  like 
to  handle  that  crowd  like  a  detachment  of 
recruits  or  a  herd  of  broncos." 

"That  fellow  ought  to  be  a  cowboy," 
said  Komlossy.  "I  don't  like  your  sol 
diers  ;  they  are  too  brusque  and  always  awk 
ward  in  a  drawing-room." 

"Possibly  they  were  intended  for  some 
other  service,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland  dryly. 

The  Hungarian  glanced  at  her  with  his 
keen  little  eyes.  There  was  a  slight  sneer 
on  his  lip,  partially  concealed  by  the  stubby 
white  hairs  of  his  mustache. 


4  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

"You  are  unlike  most  American  society 
women,"  he  said;  "You  do  not  apologize 
for  your  country's  faults." 

"No,  I  applaud  its  virtues." 

"In  that  you  are  original." 

"Is  it  original  to  be  patriotic;  is  it  origi 
nal  to  have  a  principle?" 

"Ah,  madam,  with  you  patriotism  is  not 
a  principle.  I  fear  it  is  merely  a  pastime, 
or — dare  I  say  it? — a  pose." 

"Most  women  would  resent  that." 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Cortland,"  the  little 
diplomat  said  fulsomely;  "you  are  not 
most  women ;  you  are  unique — a  monopoly 
of  charm  with  a  modicum  of  fault." 

"I  hate  compliments,  Komlossy.  They 
are  merely  intended  to  delude  fools.  The 
wise  they  nauseate." 

"But,  madame,  when  a  compliment  con 
veys  the  truth — " 

"Then  it  is  no  longer  a  compliment." 

"You  are  too  cynical  to  be  a  woman — too 
clever  to  be  a  man." 

Mrs.  Cortland  glanced  at  her  well-turned 
shoulders. 

"Let  us  talk  about  something  serious," 
she  said  abruptly. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  5 

"Eh  bien.  Let  us  talk  about  Secretary 
Duncan's  pretty  daughter  and  that  Jack 
Hardy  whom  I  do  not  like. " 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  took  one  quick 
glance  at  the  tall  girl  who  stood  beside  her 
father  greeting  the  incoming  guests. 

What  a  beautiful  creature,  she  thought. 
Women's  eyes  reveal  their  hearts,  the  lips 
their  habits.  That  girl  longs  for  love 
and  gets  admiration.  She  is  almost  too 
clever. 

Mrs.  Cortland  cast  a  side  glance  at  the 
young  soldier  who  stood  beside  Violet  Dun 
can.  Too  straightforward  and  stiff  to  win 
a  girl  like  Violet,  she  thought.  That  would 
need  a  tactician  more  skilled  than  herself. 

"No,  I  don't  think  that  is  serious,"  she 
said  to  her  companion. 

"The  soldier  at  least  is  serious,"  replied 
the  diplomat. 

"Successful  soldiers  usually  are." 

' '  But  I  mean  he  is  in  love  de  pied  en  cap. 
He  growls  like  a  mastiff  when  a  man  speaks 
to  her." 

"I  don't  believe  he  has  even  told  her 
that  he  loves  her." 

"Nonsense." 


6  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Men  like  Hardy  love  silently  for  years, 
because  they  are  too  proud  to  speak." 

"Or  too  priggish." 

"Why  do  you  dislike  him  so?" 

"Because  he  has  no  manners." 

"He  has  morals,  which  are  much  rarer 
now-a-days." 

"Morals  are  the  stock  in  trade  of  prigs." 

"You  must  not  abuse  him  so.  At  any  rate 
he  is  a  brave  man." 

"Yes,  your  congress  has  given  him  that 
bronze  medal ;  another  case  of  politics  I  pre 
sume." 

"He  left  his  command  to  rescue  a 
wounded  sergeant  in  the  face  of  a  thousand 
hostiles, "  said  Mrs.  Cortland  resentfully. 
"Is  not  that  bravery?" 

The  Hungarian  laughed  with  a  sinister 
little  cackle. 

"Well,  granting  he  is  brave,  I  main 
tain  he  is  rude  and  that  he  is  head  over 
heels  in  love  with  that  girl.  Will  she 
marry  him?" 

"No." 

"She  wants  a  grand  duke?" 

"No,  she  wants  nothing  more  than 
love." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  7 

"Is  she  so  bourgeoise  as  that?" 

''She  is  a  superior  girl." 

Komlossy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Superior  to  her  father,  yes.  She  is  the 
man  of  the  family.  She  has  more  tact  and 
cleverness  than  half  the  cabinet,  but  when 
you  tell  me  she  has  a  heart,  I  do  n't  be 
lieve  it." 

"All  women  have  hearts,  a  few  have  in 
tellects." 

"Bah,  a  woman's  heart  is  like  one  of 
those  toy  balloons  children  play  with,  it  is 
lighter  than  air  and  most  restless  when  tied 
to  somebody.  You  think  you  have  it 
when,  psht,  away  it  goes.  The  only  way 
to  make  an  impression  is  to  break  it." 

"Why  are  you  so  spiteful,  Komlossy?" 

"Because  for  the  moment  I  am  con 
tented.  Charity  is  bred  in  misery." 

Mrs.  Cortland  did  not  reply.  She  raised 
her  eyeglass  and  gazed  about  the  room. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said;  "you  know  every 
body.  Who  is  that  handsome,  well- 
groomed  man  who  has  just  come  in?  He 
looks  like  an  Englishman." 

Komlossy  smiled. 

"Don't   you   know  him?     Why,  that  is 


8  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Ritchie  Maitland,  one  of  your  country's 
most  distinguished  diplomats,  late  Secre 
tary  of  Embassy  in  Paris,  but  at  present, 
owing  to  the  fall  of  the  political  axe,  unat 
tached  and  looking  for  a  job." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  him.  They 
say  he  made  himself  very  unpopular  with 
Americans  visiting  Europe." 

"Because  he  refused  to  introduce  some 
long-bearded  senators  and  their  wives  to 
the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain,  where  his  own  position  was  none 
too  sure." 

"I  should  like  to  meet  him.  I  wish  you 
would  introduce  him." 

"Madame,  your  wishes  are  commands," 
said  the  minister  rising  from  his  seat.  He 
was  a  thin  little  man,  with  a  parchment-like 
skin  and  glossy  white  hair,  who  walked 
with  a  distinguished  step.  He  had  been  in 
Washington  for  several  years  and  spoke  En 
glish  almost  without  an  accent.  Unlike 
many  of  his  colleagues  he  understood  the 
various  shades  of  American  political  and 
social  life. 

Seeing  the  minister  vacate  his  seat,  a  man 
who  was  standing  near  by  approached. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  9 

"Good-evening,  Mrs.  Cortland,"  he 
said. 

"Ah,  good-evening,  General  Lloyd,"  she 
answered,  raising  her  eyes  to  the  new 
comer,  a  man  of  about  sixty,  tall,  suave, 
and  rather  stout,  with  a  sleek,  well-bred 
look,  but  with  cruel  eyes  and  sensuous  lips. 
In  his  button-hole  was  the  rosette  of  the 
Loyal  Legion;  his  clothes  were  scrupu 
lously  fashionable,  and  he  spoke  with  a  soft, 
well-modulated  voice. 

"I  saw  you  talking  to  Komlossy," 
he  said  as  he  took  the  seat  beside  Mrs. 
Cortland.  "Did  his  bombast  frighten 
you?" 

"Komlossy  never  frightens  me.  He  is 
nothing  but  a  tom-tom.  He  makes  a  great 
deal  of  noise  and  people  think  he  is  very 
terrible,  but  in  reality  he  is  merely  dried-up 
skin  over  emptiness." 

General  Lloyd  smiled. 

"You  are  belying  your  reputation,  you 
actually  made  an  unkind  remark  about  a 
man  behind  his  back.  I  dare  you  to  repeat 
it  to  his  face." 

"I  accept  the  challenge.  I  would  say 
anything  to  Komlossy." 


io  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Well,  here  he  comes." 

The  little  Hungarian,  followed  by  the 
ex-secretary  of  embassy,  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd. 

"Mrs.  Cortland,  may  I  introduce  Mr. 
Maitland?"  he  said  when  he  reached  her 
side.  "And  General  Lloyd,  Mr.  Mait 
land." 

"I  am  delighted  to  meet  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Cortland.  "I  have  heard  of  you  so  often. 
Won't  you  sit  down?  There  is  room  for  one 
more  on  this  divan.  As  for  you,  Komlossy, 
I  have  talked  to  you  enough  this  even- 
ing." 

'"One  moment,  Komlossy,"  said  Gen 
eral  Lloyd.  "Mrs.  Cortland  has  something 
to  say  to  you,  something  very  disagree 
able." 

"Then  I  will  not  listen;  I  do  not  believe 
Mrs.  Cortland  would  say  anything  disagree 
able,  and  if  she  did,  I  should  not  care  to 
hear  it.  Good-bye.  I  am  going  to  talk  to 
the  wives  of  my  colleagues." 

The  Hungarian  walked  away  abruptly, 
and  was  soon  lost  in  the  crowd. 

"What  a  grand  thing  a  reputation  is, 
Mrs.  Cortland,"  said  General  Lloyd. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  n 

"Komlossy  would  not  believe  you  called 
him  a  tom-tom,  even  if  you  acknowledged 
it." 

"He  was  the  tom-tom  who  was  sounding 
your  praises,  Mr.  Maitland,"  she  said 
abruptly,  scanning  the  man  who  had  just 
taken  the  seat  beside  her. 

She  did  not  like  his  face.  His  little 
brown  eyes  set  close  together  were  cold 
and  selfish,  and  she  thought  his  lips  too 
straight  and  thin ;  but  he  was  tall  and  dis 
tinguished,  and  wore  his  clothes  well.  He 
was  decidedly  'good-looking  and  his  manner 
was  a  strange  mixture  of  self-confidence 
and  obsequiousness. 

"You  have  just  come  to  Washington,  I 
believe,"  she  said  by  way  of  opening  the 
conversation. 

"Yes.  I  used  to  live  here  years  ago.  I 
was  four  years  in  the  State  Department  be 
fore  I  went  to  France." 

"Oh,  then  you  know  us  thoroughly." 

"One  can  never  know  Washington.  It 
is  a  kaleidoscope  which  shifts  with  every 
change  of  politics." 

"But  surely  you  know  many  people?" 
interrupted  General  Lloyd. 


12  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"No,  only  a  few,  mostly  those  whom  I 
have  met  in  Paris." 

"Well,  everybody  who  is  anybody  is 
out  to-night,"  continued  General  Lloyd. 

"Yes,  Violet  Duncan  is  a  remarkable 
girl,"  replied  Mrs.  Cortland.  "She  is 
the  success  of  this  administration." 

"Has  not  her  father  great  influence  with 
the  President?"  asked  Maitland. 

"Yes,  almost  as  much  as  General  Lloyd." 

"How  absurd,"  said  the  General.  "The 
President  and  I  are  old  friends,  but  I  have 
no  influence  with  him." 

"If  I  wished  an  appointment  I  should 
beg  for  your  support.  If  you  refused  I 
should  know  that  I  had  failed." 

Mrs.  Cortland  saw  the  look  of  intense  in 
terest  in  Maitland 's  eye.  She  smiled. 

"You  evidently  want  something,  Mrs. 
Cortland,"  laughed  the  General,  rising  from 
his  seat.  "  I  am  going  before  you  compel 
me  to  commit  myself." 

"Do  not  think  you  can  escape  me  so 
easily.  I  shall  haunt  y®ur  hotel  until  I 
have  your  endorsement." 

"With  that  delightful  prospect  you  will 
never  obtain  it.  The  pleasure  of  seeing 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  13 

you  continuously  would  be  too  great  to 
lose." 

"But,  General,  you  do  not  know  the  will 
of  a  persistent  woman." 

"You  forget  that  I  have  been  in  politics 
for  thirty  years, ' '  he  said  as  he  walked  away. 

Maitland's  glance  followed  his  retreating 
form. 

"Is  he  really  so  influential  with  the  ad 
ministration?"  he  asked. 

"He  thinks  he  is,"  she  replied  dryly 

"Then  you  were  merely  flattering  him." 

"Not  exactly.  He  has  plenty  of  influ 
ence  in  New  York,  and  lots  of  money.  He 
practically  controls  the  delegation  of  his 
state,  and  is  a  power,  if  a  cunning,  cold, 
selfish,  unprincipled  man  can  be  a  power." 

"It  is  evident  you  do  not  like  him." 

"No,  he  is  one  of  the  few  men  whom  I 
despise." 

"You  are  very  severe." 

"No,  I  am  very  just.  General  Lloyd 
killed  his  wife  by  coldness  and  neglect.  He 
was  overbearing,  exacting  and,  cruel.  He 
treated  her  like  an  inferior.  He  neglected 
her,  too,  but  I  assure  you  he  never  neglects 
the  wives  of  his  friends. ' ' 


14  THE   VICE   OF    FOOLS 

"But  he  is  at  least  a  man  of  the  world," 
said  Maitland. 

"Yes,  his  manners  are  irreproachable  and 
his  morals  irredeemable." 

Maitland  smiled.  "Morality  has  sexual 
variations,"  he  said.  "In  a  woman  it  is 
honor,  in  a  man  honesty." 

"Not  exactly,"  she  replied.  "Honesty 
is  a  term  you  men  apply  to  your  transac 
tions  with  each  other.  Your  treatment  of 
women  is  so  universally  dishonorable  that 
you  do  not  consider  it  even  worthy  of 
opprobrium." 

"Really,  Mrs.  Cortland,"  he  said,  laugh 
ing,  "Your  denunciation  of  my  sex  is  so 
absolute  that  a  refutation  appears  useless. 
I  confess,  however,  that  misanthropy  was 
the  last  sentiment  I  expected  to  find  con 
cealed  beneath  such  a  face  as  yours." 

"A  woman's  face  is  invariably  a  mask  for 
her  fancy.  Like  a  court  masker  she  can 
only  be  recognized  by  her  mouth." 

"What  a  novel  theory!"  said  Maitland 
in  an  interested  tone.  "It  might  be  possible 
to  tell  a  woman's  age  by  her  teeth  I  sup 
pose,  but  to  tell  her  character  by  her  lips — 
that  seems  quite  another  thing." 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  15 

"But  I  am  confident  that  a  woman's 
mouth  is  a  true  index  to  her  motives." 

"You  must  demonstrate  your  theory. 
Now,  Miss  Duncan  for  instance.  What 
does  her  mouth  indicate?" 

Mrs.  Cortland  scrutinized  the  beautiful 
face  of  the  secretary's  daughter.  "At  pres 
ent  her  lips  lack  tenderness,"  she  said; 
"They  are  too  firmly  set.  Love  has  not 
closed  her  heart  to  ambition." 

"But  is  she  not  cold  by  nature?" 

"No,  she  is  cold  because  she  has  not  met 
the  man  she  can  love." 

"Who  must  possess  the  melting  power  of 
a  blast  furnace  I  should  say,"  replied  Mait- 
land  doubtfully. 

"No,  I  think  that  at  heart  Violet  Dun 
can  is  sincere." 

"Sincere  in  everything  but  love." 

"It  is  that  which  proves  a  woman's  sin 
cerity,"  replied  Mrs.  Cortland  firmly.  "A 
sincere  woman  loves,  a  fickle  woman  loves 
to  love,  and  a  selfish  woman  loves  to  be 
loved." 

"What  an  uncanny  person  you  are.  I 
hope  you  cannot  read  men  so  clearly." 

"All  men   are   more  or  less  alike.     The 


16  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

only  difference  is  that  occasionally  one  has 
a  conscience." 

Maitland  laughed.  "Then  I  suppose 
you  know  me  through  and  through  by  this 
time.  Tell  me  the  worst,  I  pray." 

"The  worst  is  no  worse  than  your  repu 
tation." 

"That  is  insulting,  or  enigmatical,  I 
do  n't  know  which." 

"Then  to  be  plainer  I  think  a  girl  should 
beware  of  you ;  a  married  woman  afraid  of 
you,  and  a  widow  a  match  for  you — not  in 
the  matrimonial  sense." 

"What  a  hopelessly  bad  reputation  I 
must  have." 

"Is  it  undeserved?"  she  asked,  looking 
him  straight  in  the  face. 

"A  criminal  is  never  obliged  to  convict 
himself,"  he  answered  with  a  forced  smile. 

"Then,  let  us  declare  a  truce.  In  the 
meantime  you  may  get  me  an  ice." 

A  half  hour  later  as  Ritchie  Maitland  left 
the  house  accompanied  by  Komlossy,  he 
turned  to  the  little  Hungarian  and  said: 
' '  What  an  unusual  woman  Mrs.  Cortland  is. ' ' 

"Yes,  she  is  like  a  porcupine.  She  needs 
to  be  stroked  the  right  way." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  17 

"And  if  you  arouse  her,"  added  Mait- 
land,  "she  fairly  bristles  with  stinging  re 
torts." 

"I  would  rather  have  her  friendship  than 
her  love,"  replied  Komlossy.  "It  would 
last  longer  and  wear  better. ' ' 

They  walked  a  moment  in  silence, 
quietly  smoking  their  cigars.  Maitland 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"And  Miss  Duncan,"  he  asked;  "Why 
has  she  never  married?" 

"She  is  too  proud  to  marry  for  money 
and  too  poor  to  marry  for  love." 

"That  is  all  very  well  while  she  has 
power  and  admiration,  but  some  day  she 
will  need  money." 

"Then  she  will  find  a  rich  old  man  to 
marry." 

"And  a  poor  young  man  to  love?" 
laughed  Maitland. 

The  Hungarian  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
' '  Quien  sabef  An  American  girl  is  some 
times  a  "volcano,  but  more  often  a  refrigera 
tor." 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  club. 


II 

"  FRIENDSHIP  's  FULL  OF  DREGS." 
Timon  of  Athens,  I.  2. 

As  the  last  carriage  rolled  away  from  the 
secretary's  house  Violet  Duncan  dropped 
wearily  into  the  corner  of  a  divan.  Her 
white  shoulders  sank  into  the  soft  cushions. 
Jack  Hardy,  erect  and  military,  stood  be 
side  her,  his  powerful  figure  splendidly  set 
off  by  the  blue  and  yellow  uniform  of  the 
cavalry  arm.  After  the  brilliance  and  bustle 
of  the  official  reception  the  drawing-room 
seemed  deserted  and  still.  The  secretary 
had  gone  to  the  library  to  write. 

Violet  partly  closed  her  eyes.  The  sol 
dier  watched  her  intently.  He  had  a  frank, 
manly  face  with  clear  blue  eyes  and  high 
cheek  bones.  Under  his  sandy  mustache, 
almost  white  in  contrast  with  the  florid 
cheeks,  was  a  straight,  determined  mouth. 

Violet  half  opened  her  eyes,  and  meeting 
his  glance,  smiled  in  a  listless  way. 

"Sit  down,  Jack,  won't  you,"  she  said. 
18 


'  VIOLET  DUNCAN  DROPPED   WEARILY  INTO  THE  CORNER  OF  A  DIVAN. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  19 

"I  was  waiting  to  say  good-night." 

"Do  n't  go  yet." 

"But  you  look  tired." 

"I  never  go  to  bed  before  Pater.  He 
might  want  something,  you  know,"  she  an 
swered,  suppressing  a  yawn  with  her  rin 
gers.  "Sit  down  and  amuse  me." 

Hardy  unclasped  his  sword,  laid  it  across 
a  chair  and  took  the  seat  beside  her. 

"Why  were  you  looking  at  me  so  curi 
ously?"  she  asked.  "What  were  you 
thinking  about?  Tell  me." 

"I  was  thinking  that  I  would  rather  be  a 
beautiful  girl  of  twenty-three  than  anything 
in  the  world." 

"At  twenty-five  you  would  wish  you 
were  a  man  again." 

"But  to  be  absolutely  admired  as  you 
were  to-night, — that  must  be  happiness.  To 
have  that  for  even  a  year.  What  more  could 
one  ask?" 

"Contentment,  Jack.  There  is  no  con 
tentment  in  this  life;  it  only  hinders  one 
from  finding  it  elsewhere." 

"But  one  can  't  live  without  adulation. 
The  more  we  despise  it  the  more  necessary 
it  becomes." 


20  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"That  is  a  strange  sentiment  for  you, 
Jack." 

"I  know  it,"  he  said  with  a  sigh. 

"Then  why  do  you  try  to  be  cynical?" 

"I  was  trying  to  understand  you,  Violet. 
You  have  changed  so  much  during  the  past 
few  years. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  can  scarcely  understand  myself. 
Do  you  remember  those  days  in  Springfield, 
when  Pater  was  governor  of  the  state,  and 
you  were  detailed  to  inspect  the  militia?" 

"Yes,  you  were  only  sixteen  then." 

"And  how  terribly  provincial  we  were. 
It  gives  me  the  horrors  to  think  of  us  then. 
Why,  we  dined  at  one  o'clock  and  had  tea 
with  jam  and  pickles  and  all  kinds  of  horri 
ble  concoctions." 

Hardy  smiled.  "And  do  French  entries 
make  you  any  happier?" 

"Yes.  I  honestly  think  I  get  as  much 
pleasure  from  the  knowledge  that  we  have 
a  good  cook  as  I  do  from  any  one  thing.  I 
can  't  conceive  of  anything  more  mortifying 
than  the  giving  of  bad  dinners." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  think  you  are  hope 
lessly  frivolous?" 

"Do  you  know,  Jack,"  she  said  looking 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS  21 

into  his  face;  "I  love  to  say  things  to 
shock  you.  I  have  a  feeling  that  you 
do  n't  approve  of  me  any  more,  and  I  take 
a  certain  malicious  joy  in  making  you  think 
I  am  worse  than  I  really  am." 

"I  sometimes  like  to  think  of  you  as  you 
were,"  he  replied.  "Not  that  I  disapprove 
of  you  now,  but  I  do  n't  quite  understand 
you.  You  seem  completely  absorbed  with 
the  life  here  and  to  me  it  is  so  artificial  and 
unsatisfactory.  The  game  is  n't  worth  the 
candle." 

"But  you  don't  understand  the  game, 
Jack.  The  feverish  excitement  of  it.  It  is 
fascinating.  There  is  nothing  like  it, — play, 
continuous  play,  night  and  day,  manoeuvr 
ing,  scheming,  checkmating.  The  stakes 
are  success.  To  win  one  must  be  always  in 
the  game ;  to  drop  out  for  a  moment  means 
ruin.  All  other  games  are  insipid." 

For  a  moment  Hardy  was  silent. 

"I  suppose  the  frontier  is  the  place  for 
me,"  he  said,  finally. 

"Jack,  do  you  know  what  you  need?" 

"A  good  shaking?" 

"No,  marching  orders.  You  ought  to 
be  sent  back  to  the  frontier,  to  some  one- 


22  THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

company  post.  After  you  had  lived  in  an 
adobe  hut  for  a  few  years,  with  nobody  to 
talk  to  but  greasers  and  Indians,  you  would 
begin  to  think  you  had  made  a  mistake  in 
despising  society.  I  have  a  mind  to  per 
suade  Pater  to  send  you." 

Hardy  laughed.  "Perhaps  you  are  right, 
but  am  I  any  more  inconsistent  than  you? 
A  moment  ago  you  said  that  all  society  did 
was  to  prevent  you  from  finding  content 
ment  elsewhere." 

"But  who  is  contented?  We  all  have 
our  ideals  of  happiness.  The  realization 
never  comes.  Pleasure  is  not  a  bad  substi 
tute." 

"You  do  n't  believe  your  own  pessim 
ism,  ' '  he  said  firmly.  ' '  It  has  a  hollow  ring. 

"Why  say  that?" 

"Because  I  believe  in  you." 

"Your  faith  is  stronger  than  mine,"  she 
said  with  a  sigh.  "I  have  no  confidence  in 
myself.  I  often  wonder  what  will  become 
of  me.  We  have  two  years  more  in  office, 
but  what  then?  I  could  not  go  back  to 
Illinois." 

"There  is  always  the  possibility  of  mar 
riage." 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS  23 

"No,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head  doubt 
fully;  "I  cannot  think  of  myself  as  a  mar 
ried  woman, — not  for  a  long  time  at  least." 

"But  to  follow  out  your  doctrines,  mar 
riage  would  be  the  next  logical  move.  At 
least  with  a  rich  man." 

"No,  Jack,  I  don't  think  I  could  marry 
a  man  I  did  not  love." 

He  smiled.  "You  see  I  am  making  you 
prove  the  falseness  of  your  faith." 

"But  I  could  not  marry  a  poor  man  even 
if  I  loved  him." 

"You  say  that  because  you  have  never 
been  in  love." 

"I  was  almost  in  love  with  you  once,  be 
fore  we  became  such  thorough  friends." 

"Yes,  time  strengthens  friendship." 

"And  weakens  love,"  she  laughed. 
"Love  is  born  suddenly,  friendship  grows 
by  degrees." 

"But  cannot  love  grow  slowly  also?"  he 
asked,  looking  into  her  face,  anxiously. 

"That  is  too  much  like  friendship  to  be 
love.  Love  comes  without  deliberation." 

He  left  his  seat  and  paced  the  floor 
slowly.  "I  wonder  what  the  man  you 
will  love  is  like,"  he  said.  "It  will  be 


24  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

hard  for  me  to  have  this — this  friendship  of 
ours  end." 

She  laughed.  "Do  n't  worry,  Jack.  The 
beginning  of  the  end  is  not  yet." 

"But  what  you  call  love  comes  sud 
denly." 

"Yes,  unless  I  could  feel  the  violence  of 
love  I  should  not  know  I  was  in  love." 

"The  violence  of  love  is  its  bitterness." 

"Jack,  you  talk  strangely  to-night,"  she 
said.  "What  is  the  matter?  There  must 
be  something,  you  have  been  so  moody 
lately." 

He  laughed  cynically.  "Yes,  there  is 
something,"  he  said. 

"Then  tell  me." 

"You  are  the  last  person  in  the  world  to 
whom  I  would  tell  it." 

She  met  his  glance,  then  turned  her  eyes 
away. 

He  paced  the  floor  deliberately. 

"Good-night,"  he  said  abruptly;  "I  am 
going." 

Without  speaking,  he  took  his  sword 
from  the  chair  and  walked  into  the  hall. 
Violet  followed  and  stood  in  the  door. 

"Jack,"  she  said  as  he  threw  his  military 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  25 

cloak  about  his  shoulders,  "friendship  is 
rarer  than  love,  and  more  satisfactory." 

"And  does  one  exclude  the  other?" 

"Yes,  love  begins  with  love." 

Hardy  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 
"Good-night,  Violet;  good-night,"  was  all 
he  said.  She  felt  the  tremor  of  his  hand. 

He  opened  the  great  hall  door,  a  cold 
blast  chilled  Violet's  shoulders.  The  door 
closed  with  a  jar,  his  sword  clicked  on  the 
stone  steps,  then  all  was  silent. 

For  a  time  she  stood  with  her  hands 
tightly  clasped  together.  Then  tears  glis 
tened  in  her  eyes.  She  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  wept.  "I  wish  I  could  love 
him,"  she  cried;  "I  wish  I  could." 


Ill 

"AT   THE   LATTER  END   OF   A   DINNER." 

Airs  Well  that  ends  Well,  II.  3. 

Mrs.  Cortland's  Sunday  dinners  were 
never  dull. 

They  were  always  small,  never  too  long, 
and  the  guests  were  chosen  with  unerring 
tact.  She  abhorred  functions,  so  the  few 
officials  who  came  on  these  occasions 
were  invited  as  friends,  not  as  function 
aries.  Mrs.  Cortland  was  a  leader  of 
the  exclusive  set  which  boasted  that  but 
six  senators  and  three  congressmen  were 
admitted  within  its  folds.  The  number  of 
cabinet  ministers  was  proportionately  large, 
but  the  administration  was  popular  socially, 
as  some  of  the  so-called  "cabinet  ladies  " 
entertained  delightfully.  None,  however, 
was  more  popular  than  Violet  Duncan. 
She  was  universally  acknowledged  to  be  the 
success  of  the  administration.  Violet  had 
a  standing  dinner  engagement  with  Mrs. 
Cortland  for  each  alternate  Sunday  until 
26 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  27 

Lent.  This  was  irrefutable  testimony  of 
her  popularity. 

As  Violet  entered  Mrs.  Cortland's  draw 
ing-room  the  Sunday  following  her  own 
reception  she  cast  a  hurried  glance  about 
the  room.  Weazen  Komlossy  was  almost 
eclipsed  on  a  distant  divan  by  two  matrons 
of  bulging  proportions.  He  always  made 
it  a  point  to  talk  to  the  women  who  enter 
tain,  before  dinner,  so  that  after  dinner  he 
might  devote  himself  to  the  women  who 
amuse. 

Mrs.  Jack  Elliott,  a  very  pretty,  very 
frivolous  woman  of  twenty-five,  was  sur 
rounded  by  a  group  of  young  secretaries 
and  attache's,  who  laughed  at  her  flighty 
remarks  and  paid  her  the  extravagant  com 
pliments  she  courted.  In  a  darkened  cor 
ner  Dick  Willing,  a  good-looking,  impe 
cunious  clerk  in  the  State  Department 
whom  every  girl  liked,  but  none  wanted  to 
marry,  was  looking  into  the  eyes  of  a  young 
heiress  to  millions.  This  called  forth  sin 
ister  glances  from  the  dark  face  of  Count 
Joam  de  Albuquerque,  the  Portuguese  sec 
retary,  whose  monthly  custom  was  to  lay 
his  title  at  the  feet  of  this  girl,  with  pro- 


28  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

testations  of  affection  on  his  lips  and  pre 
dilections  for  the  millions  in  his  heart. 

The  hostess  was  talking  to  Ritchie  Mait- 
land.  She  had  met  him  again  at  dinner  the 
night  before  and  had  invited  him  verbally. 
A  new  man  was  always  an  addition.  There 
were  sixteen  people  in  all,  and  Violet  was 
the  last  to  arrive. 

"I  fear  I  am  horribly  late,"  she  said,  as 
she  extended  her  hand  to  Mrs.  Cortland ; 
"I  have  n't  a  rational  excuse  either." 

" Never  mind,  dear;  punctuality  is  the 
thief  of  time.  What  a  lovely  gown  you 
have,  but  you  make  any  gown  look  lovely. 
Of  course  you  know  Mr.  Maitland,"  she 
added,  turning  to  her  companion;  ''he  sits 
next  you  at  dinner,  but  I  warn  you  not  to 
believe  a  word  he  says.  These  diplomats, 
you  know." 

"Diplomacy,  I  believe,  is  the  art  of  dis 
sembling  graciously,"  said  Violet,  address 
ing  Maitland. 

"Having  left  the  service  I  shall  not  at 
tempt  to  dissemble  my  admiration,  Miss 
Duncan." 

"Nor  I  my  anxiety.  I  have  heard  that 
you  are  atrociously  critical.  Is  it  not  true. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  29 

Mrs.  Cortland?"  she  asked,  turning  to  the 
hostess. 

"Mr.  Maitland  discriminates  before  dis 
paraging,  so  you  have  nothing  to  fear,  my 
dear." 

"Dinner  is  served,  madam,"  said  a  sleek, 
imperturbable  servant  who  had  approached 
noiselessly. 

At  her  Sunday  dinners  Mrs.  Cortland 
disregarded  official  precedence  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  and  as  the  informality  of  these  occa 
sions  was  generally  understood,  an  ambas 
sador  considered  himself  fortunate  if  placed 
between  two  debutantes. 

On  reaching  the  dining-room  Violet  found 
herself  between  Komlossy  and  Maitland. 
This  arrangement  pleased  her.  Maitland 
was  a  novelty  and,  if  he  bored  her,  the  little 
Hungarian  was  always  a  tonic.  She  had 
felt  decidedly  depressed  all  day.  Sunday 
was  always  unsatisfactory.  She  looked  for 
ward  to  it  as  a  day  of  rest,  but  she  was 
usually  overwhelmed  with  visitors,  or  when 
it  rained,  as  it  had  that  day,  she  was  bored 
by  solitude.  But  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Cort- 
land's  table  revived  her  spirits.  The  can 
dles,  the  silver,  the  harmonious  color 


30  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

scheme  of  the  decorations  all  combined  to 
put  her  in  a  better  humor,  and  she  glanced 
about  at  the  women's  gowns  with  the  grati 
fying  consciousness  that  no  one  was  better 
dressed  than  she. 

"Have  you  taken  them  all  in,  Miss  Dun 
can?"  said  Maitland,  who  had  been  watch 
ing  her. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have." 

"Then  you  can  tell  me  who  are  wearing 
last  year's  gowns  made  over." 

"That  can  be  easily  told  by  the  expres 
sion  of  a  woman's  face.  There  is  a  self- 
consciousness  in  the  possession  of  a  new 
dress  that  few  can  disguise." 

"Then  there  is  something  beside  love 
which  a  woman's  face  cannot  dissemble." 

' '  But  a  woman  can  always  conceal  love 
when  it  suits  her  purpose." 

"Not  from  the  man  she  loves." 

Violet  laughed.  "What  a  thoroughly 
conceited  member  of  your  sex  you  must 
be." 

"You  misunderstand  me.  I  am  merely 
talking  theoretically,  not  from  experience." 

"I  suppose  you  wish  me  to  believe  that 
you  are  one  of  those  insufferable  men 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  31 

who  insist  that  they  have  never  been  in 
love." 

"On  the  contrary  I  have  never  been 
loved." 

"How  fulsomely  modest." 

Maitland  sipped  his  sherry.  "One  must 
love  several  times  before  learning  how  to 
win  love." 

"So  you  think  you  are  a  master  of  the 
art." 

"I  am  confident  of  it,"  he  said  half 
laughing. 

Violet  looked  into  his  face.  His  assur 
ance  was  so  good-natured  and  preposterous 
that  it  was  scarcely  definable  as  conceit. 

"You  must  tell  me  your  modus  oper- 
andi,"  she  said;  "then  I  shall  know  how  to 
guard  myself  against  such  fascinators  as 
you." 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  do  not  intend  to 
do." 

"And  why?"  said  Violet,  arching  her 
eyebrows,  inquisitively. 

"Because  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  I 
shall  fall  in  love  with  you." 

"How  delightful!  then  I  shall  have  the 
amusement  of  disproving  your  theory." 


32  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"On  the  contrary  I  expect  you  to  demon 
strate  it.  You  must  admit  that  I  play 
fair. ' ' 

"You  are  certainly  abrupt,  but  I  am 
tempted  to  think  you  impertinent,"  said 
Violet  turning  towards  Komlossy. 

Maitland  laughed. 

"You  are  a  colossal  fraud,"  she  said  to 
the  Hungarian.  "I  saw  you  before  dinner, 
wedged  in  between  Mrs.  Rivers  and  Mrs. 
Love,  smiling  at  both  of  them.  Did  you 
pick  up  an  invitation  or  two?" 

The  minister  laughed  with  a  little  chuckle 
like  the  cackle  of  a  hen.  "What  a  mind 
reader  you  are.  Now  to  confess  the  truth 
I  had  an  evening  disengaged  next  week, 
and  I  had  to  do  something.  I  cannot  dine 
alone,  it  bores  me." 

"And  now  you  will  have  the  distin 
guished  honor  of  meeting  me  at  Mrs.  Rivers 
on  Thursday  evening  at  half  after  eight." 

"Precisely.  Was  it  not  worth  while? 
Mrs.  Rivers  is  a  worthy  soul,  and  her  cook 
is  divine." 

"She  is  a  widow,  Komlossy;  you  might 
marry  her  for  the  sake  of  the  cook. ' ' 

The  diplomat  made  a  wry  face. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  33 

"To  see  her  every  day  would  destroy  my 
appetite ;  then  I  could  no  longer  appreciate 
the  cook." 

"But  I  honestly  think  it  time  for  you  to 
marry  some  one." 

"Alas,  yes,  but  I  grow  more  particular 
and  less  desirable  every  day." 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  married, — it 
would  be  such  sport." 

"Mademoiselle,  for  woman  marriage  is 
inevitable,  for  man  it  is  insanity." 

"There  is  evidently  insanity  in  your 
father's  family.  Take  care,  it  may  break 
out  suddenly  in  a  violent  form,  such  as  Mrs. 
Rivers,  or  her  cook." 

"If  ever  I  marry  it  will  be  with  a  cook. 
Then  I  may  scold  her  as  much  as  I  please 
and  she  cannot  give  warning." 

"A  case  of  connubial  bluster  for  culinary 
bliss." 

"Exactly,  and  speaking  of  matrimony 
that  reminds  me  that  I  had  a  long  argu 
ment  with  a  woman  last  week  as  to  whether 
you  would  eventually  make  a  permanent 
alliance  with  the  war  department." 

"How  preposterous,"  laughed  Violet; 
"and  which  side  did  you  take." 


34  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"The  affirmative." 

''I  thought  you  were  more  discerning 
than  that." 

"I  based  my  argument  on  the  fact  that  a 
woman  almost  invariably  marries  the  wrong 
man,  and  that  persistence  accomplishes 
more  than  perfection." 

"If  ever  I  marry  it  will  be  without  pre 
meditation,"  said  Violet,  thoughtfully. 
"Should  I  take  time  to  think,  I  could  not 
do  it." 

"Let  me  make  a  prophesy.  You  will 
marry  within  a  year.  At  present  you  do  not 
love  the  man  you  expect  to  marry,  nor  do 
you  expect  to  marry  the  man  you  love." 

"In  the  name  of  goodness  talk  to  your 
neighbor,"  said  Violet.  "You  are  posi 
tively  insane." 

"I  am  a  clairvoyant,  mademoiselle.  I 
am  never  mistaken,  but  I  obey,  and  here 
with  offer  my  scintillant  wit  at  the  more 
appreciative  shrine  of  Miss  Birdie  Day. 
Au  revoir." 

Komlossy  turned  away  abruptly,  and  had 
soon  engaged  his  neighbor  in  conversation. 

For  a  while  Violet  ate  in  silence.  Mait- 
land  was  talking  earnestly  to  buxom  old 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  35 

Mrs.  Love,  whose  gown  was  so  tight  that 
it  crackled  every  time  she  breathed.  Violet 
wondered  why  so  few  women  know  how  to 
grow  old  gracefully. 

Then  she  thought  of  Jack  Hardy.  He 
despised  the  great  world  for  its  insincerity. 
To  her,  human  nature  was  the  same  in  any 
sphere.  People  were  heartless,  cold,  and 
selfish  in  Springfield  as  they  were  in  Wash 
ington.  The  proportion  of  genuineness 
was  much  the  same,  if  anything,  greater  in 
the  society  which  was  not  stinted  by  nar 
row-mindedness  and  bigotry.  Jack  Hardy 
was  a  visionary.  His  world  of  honest  men 
and  noble  women  was  an  Utopia,  therefore 
the  true  solution  was  to  take  the  world  as 
it  is.  Be  exalted  and  bored  by  the  good, 
amused  and  shocked  by  the  bad.  Her  phi 
losophy  was  live  and  let  live.  None  was  all 
bad,  none  all  good.  The  greatest  altruism 
was  amusement,  and  boredom  the  most 
stupid  egoism.  The  only  way  to  be  happy 
was  to  be  amused,  and  the  only  way  to  be 
amused  was  to  keep  from  being  bored.  She 
loved  society  because  society  was  amusing. 
Provincialism  was  the  essence  of  stupidity, 
but  wilfully  to  prefer  provincialism  as  Jack 


36  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

would  have  her  do,  was  little  short  of  in 
sanity.  She  smiled  at  her  own  logic.  It 
was  so  thoroughly  the  logic  of  youth. 

''Won't  you  let  me  share  that  thought?" 
said  Maitland,  who  for  a  moment  had  been 
watching  her  intently. 

"No,  it  is  too  sincere  for  your  apprecia 
tion." 

"Do  you  think  me  wholly  insincere 
then?" 

"I  scarcely  know  you,  Mr.  Maitland." 

"The  sincerity  of  a  man,  Miss  Duncan, 
depends  upon  the  woman  he  first  loves  sin 
cerely.  ' ' 

"That  is  just  like  a  man.  A  woman 
must  be  held  responsible  for  his  lack 
of  character.  But  I  think  it  depends 
on  his  mother  rather  than  his  sweet 
heart." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  so  skeptical,  you 
afford  such  a  delightful  field  for  the  propa 
gandist." 

"Ah,  but  remember  it  is  far  easier  to 
proselytise  a  heathen  than  an  atheist.  You 
see  I  do  not  believe  in  any  god  in  the 
shape  of  man." 

"Then   I  shall  make  you  believe  in  me." 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  37 

"A  boastful  threat,  indeed;  how  will  you 
begin?" 

"I  shall  begin  by  asking  you  to  pass  me 
those  almonds." 

"Which  task  I  perform  complacently," 
said  Violet,  placing  a  silver  dish  before 
him. 

"Good,  obedience  is  a  tenet  of  every 
belief." 

"Ah,  but  a  woman  is  often  obedient  to 
the  man  she  hates,  and  obdurate  to  him  she 
loves." 

Maitland  played  with  the  stem  of  his 
glass.  "After  all,"  he  said,  "it  is  absurd  to 
deliberate  about  love.  Love  is  spontane 
ous." 

"That  is  a  creed  after  my  own  heart," 
said  Violet  enthusiastically;  "I  have  often 
said  that  if  ever  I  love  it  will  be  without 
intention." 

"I  imagine,"  Maitland  said  softly,  "that 
those  you  might  have  loved  have  been  too 
persistent.  They  have  wearied  you  by 
much  loving,  they  have  wearied  you  by 
much  servility.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"Yes,"  Violet  answered  thoughtfully. 

For  a  moment  Maitland  was  silent.    "Do 


38  THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

you  believe  in  palmistry,  Miss  Duncan?" 
he  said  finally. 

"Only  partially.  I  think  the  hand  shows 
one's  breeding  rather  more  than  one's  char 
acter." 

"I  should  like  to  tell  your  hand  ;  perhaps 
I  might  convert  you?" 

"That  word,  'perhaps,'  implies  doubt.  I 
thought  your  self-confidence  was  un 
bounded." 

Maitland  smiled.  "The  only  doubt  I 
feel  is  lest  you  should  not  permit  me  to 
make  the  attempt." 

"Then  I  set  your  doubt  at  rest.  You 
may  come  to-morrow  at  five  if  you  will." 

"Thank  you." 

The  guests  were  leaving  the  table.  Kom- 
lossy  walked  with  Violet  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"You  must  beware  of  Mr.  Maitland,"  he 
said  as  he  was  leaving  her;  "he  is  a  danger 
ous  man." 

"Really,"  said  Violet. 

"I  have  warned  you,"  said  the  little 
Magyar.  Then  he  wandered  to  the  smok 
ing-room,  where  a  group  of  men  were 


MAITLANP  SAT  APART,  QUIKTI.V  SMOKING  HIS  CIGAK.' 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  39 

ajready  discussing  the  Peruvian  difficulty 
and  the  policy  of  the  government. 

Maitland  sat  apart  quietly  smoking  his 
cigar.  He  was  thinking  over  the  conversa 
tion  he  had  had  with  Violet.  "She  is  a 
clever  girl,"  he  thought,  "and  beautiful; 
what  a  pity  she  is  poor."  Then  a  remark 
he  overheard  attracted  his  attention. 

"I  tell  you  Duncan  is  the  power  of  this 
administration,"  said  the  speaker.  "The 
President  does  nothing  without  consulting 
him." 

"I  must  have  Secretary  Duncan's  sup 
port,"  he  thought,  "and  the  winning  of  it 
will  not  be  uninteresting." 


IV 

"  IN  THE  PALM  OF  THE  HAND." 
Comedy  of  Errors,  III.  2. 

Love  is  sometimes  a  question  of  prefer 
ence,  more  often  of  predicament.  Had 
Violet  remained  in  Springfield  she  would 
undoubtedly  have  fallen  in  love  with  Jack 
Hardy.  He  was  a  cut  above  the  Spring 
field  youth,  and  she  was  thrown  with  him 
constantly.  But  her  father's  term  of  office 
expired  when  she  was  seventeen  and  then 
she  was  taken  to  Europe  by  her  mother  for 
two  years  of  travel. 

Jack  Hardy  went  back  to  his  regiment, 
and  amid  the  sterile  influences  of  a  frontier 
post,  Violet  was  the  one  memory  he  cher 
ished.  In  Europe  Violet  met  many  men, 
and  Jack  Hardy  became  one  of  many 
memories.  That  was  the  difference. 

It  is  a  dangerous  moment  in  an  Ameri 
can  girl's  life  when  she  discovers  the  pro 
vincialism  of  her  nearest  relatives  and 
friends.  Flushed  with  the  first  enthusiasm 
40 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  41 

of  a  superficial  cosmopolitanism,  acquired  by 
a  cursory  contact  with  European  life,  she 
becomes  to  a  certain  degree  a  fanatic.  Her 
family  and  friends  appear  to  her  eyes  un 
gainly  heretics  to  be  converted  to  the  re 
fined  tenets  of  the  cosmopolitan  creed. 
Their  accent,  the  harsh  tones  of  their  voices, 
their  clothes,  completely  dwarf  their  char 
acters,  and  howsoever  sterling  the  qualities 
of  their  natures  may  be,  they  become  un 
sympathetic  and  unendurable  through  the 
heinous  fault  of  provincialism. 

Violet's  snobbery,  if  such  it  might  be 
called,  was  induced  by  the  suddenness  with 
which  she  realised  the  shortcomings  of  her 
family  and  friends.  She  went  to  Europe  at 
an  impressionable  age,  imbued  with  all  the 
prejudices  and  provincialisms  of  an  Ameri 
can  town.  At  first  she  affected  to  despise 
the  effete  mannerisms  of  a  decaying  civiliza 
tion,  but  unconsciously  her  eyes  were 
opened  to  a  sense  of  her  own  shortcomings. 
There  was  a  sharp  pang  of  mortification,  a 
realisation  of  her  imperfection,  and  then 
she  set  to  work  studiously  to  undo  the  past. 
She  trained  her  voice  to  a  softer  inflexion, 
she  studied  the  accent  of  each  word  she 


42  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

spoke,  and  the  result  was  a  careful  though 
somewhat  apparent  imitation. 

Mrs.  Duncan  died  shortly  after  she  re 
turned  to  America.  She  had  been  a  quiet, 
unassuming  woman,  who  had  entered  her 
daughter's  life  rather  negatively.  Violet's 
ambitions  were  beyond  her  mother's  com 
prehension.  Mrs.  Duncan  idolized  but 
never  understood  her  daughter,  so  the  two 
women  shared  each  other's  love  but  not 
each  other's  sympathy.  Her  mother's 
death  consequently  was  a  blow  from  which 
Violet  recovered.  She  experienced  a  vague 
sorrow  rather  than  a  distinct  loss,  but  the 
year  of  mourning  was  dreary  and  difficult. 

Violet  had  outgrown  her  old  friends  and 
there  were  no  new  ones  to  be  made  in 
Springfield.  Solitude  was  her  only  re 
source,  and  with  the  solitude  came  a  restless 
longing  for  excitement.  She  read  Euro 
pean  papers  and  European  books,  and  tried 
to  imagine  herself  far  removed  from  her 
surroundings.  The  result  was  ineffable 
boredom,  that  curse  of  super-civilized  wom 
anhood. 

She  corresponded  occasionally  with  Jack 
Hardy.  His  letters  were  toned  with  an  in- 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  43 

comprehensible  optimism.  How  could  one 
find  contentment  at  Fort  Niobrara?  she 
wondered. 

The  presidential  campaign  developed 
a  new  interest.  Her  father  entered  heart 
and  soul  into  politics  and  she  shared  his 
enthusiasm.  He  "stumped  the  state  "  in 
the  interests  of  his  party,  and  she  accom 
panied  him  to  the  "hustings,"  to  transplant 
an  Anglican  expression.  Among  the 
grangers  of  the  "Egypt  "  district  she  found 
some  diversion.  They  at  least  were  not 
commonplace.  Originality,  however  crude 
the  form,  is  diverting,  and  Violet  was  vastly 
amused  by  the  quaint  farmers  of  Southern 
Illinois.  Their  homely  intelligence,  their 
curious  speech,  their  political  fervor,  all  ap 
pealed  to  her,  and  for  the  moment  she  for 
got  herself. 

Then  came  the  election  and  with  it  the 
triumph  of  her  party.  Governor  Duncan 
was  the  leader  in  Illinois,  and  was  spoken 
of  prominently  for  a  cabinet  position.  Vio 
let's  anxiety  became  intense,  but  her  father 
took  the  matter  philosophically.  He  had 
won  the  state  for  his  party,  and  felt  entitled 
to  the  reward.  But  presidents  are  pro- 


44  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

verbially  ungrateful,  so  he  asked  and  ex 
pected  nothing.  Violet  urged  her  father  to 
manipulate  the  wires  at  his  command.  He 
stoically  refused,  saying  that  his  record  was 
thoroughly  known.  His  appointment 
would  be  "good  politics  "  and  importunity 
would  merely  weaken  his  position. 

Finally,  with  the  inauguration  of  the 
President  came  the  announcement  of  the 
cabinet  and  the  realisation  of  Violet's 
hopes.  With  the  keenness  of  a  liberated 
prisoner  she  breathed  the  free  air  of  the 
world  again.  No  more  of  the  restrictions 
of  Springfield,  but  Washington  with  all  its 
kaleidoscopic  brilliancy. 

Social  Washington  has  a  tangent.  It  is 
the  long  line  of  official  receptions  where  the 
bureaucratic  and  aristocratic  circles  touch 
but  do  not  intersect.  The  wife  of  the 
country  congressman  who  fancies  that  her 
husband's  election  to  the  house  secures  for 
her  a  seat  in  society  is  liable  to  disappoint 
ment,  for  in  Washington,  as  elsewhere  in 
America,  society  considers  the  brilliancy  of 
a  man  an  acquisition,  but  the  good  breed 
ing  of  his  wife  is  a  necessity. 

In  Europe  a  woman  may  take  rank  from 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  45 

her  husband,  but  in  America  a  husband 
takes  social  rank  from  his  wife.  Society  is 
an  oligarchy  of,  for,  and  by  the  women. 
The  men  admitted  are  of  but  two  kinds, 
those  who  pay  attention  and  those  who  pay 
bills.  The  former  must  be  attractive,  the 
latter  merely  the  husbands  of  attractive 
women.  This  feminine  oligarchy  exists  in 
Washington  as  it  does  elsewhere  in  Amer 
ica.  Officialism  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
The  officials  who  are  invited  within  its  folds 
are  chosen  by  virtue  of  their  wives,  not 
their  offices. 

Violet  was  readily  accepted  by  the  Wash- 
ingtonians.  She  was  beautiful;  she  had 
learned  the  signs  and  passwords  of  society 
in  Europe,  and  her  father  was  Secretary  of 
War.  Money  is  fortunately  less  of  a  social 
requisite  in  Washington  than  elsewhere  in 
America;  brains  are  even  a  recommenda 
tion,  so  that  Violet's  quick  intelligence  and 
rare  tact  were  readily  appreciated.  At  last 
she  was  in  her  element.  Society  became 
her  passion. 

Jack  Hardy,  called  to  fill  a  post  in  the 
War  Department,  stood  by  and  watched 
the  development  of  the  woman  he  loved. 


46  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

He  watched  her  grow  in  beauty,  tact  and 
intelligence;  he  admired  the  consummate 
skill  with  which  she  won  and  held  her 
supremacy,  but  he  knew  that  she  was 
drifting  far  away  from  him.  Yet  she 
charmed  and  fascinated  him,  and  while  dis 
approving  most  his  love  was  strongest.  He 
watched  her  with  the  jealous  eye  of  a  lover, 
but  never  uttered  a  word  of  love.  All  the 
world  knew  his  secret  but  he  fancied  that  it 
was  buried  deep  in  his  breast.  He  was 
content  for  the  time  with  the  privileges  of  a 
friendship  he  dared  not  break.  Jack  Hardy 
was  sincere  and  manly,  but  he  lacked  sub 
tlety  and  dash — he  lacked  the  power  to 
charm. 

On  the  afternoon  following  Mrs.  Cort- 
land's  dinner  Violet  was  sitting  in  her  draw 
ing-room,  idly  scanning  the  pages  of  a 
French  novel.  She  was  expecting  Ritchie 
Maitland,  and  occasionally  her  thoughts 
turned  to  him.  She  confessed  that 
he  was  an  enigma.  She  did  not  exactly 
like  him,  but  he  interested  her.  She 
was  sure  he  was  insincere,  but  he  was  in 
scrutable,  that  meant  that  he  was  worth 
studying.  The  book  in  her  lap  was  Paul 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  47 

Bourget's  "Un  Cceur  de  Femme."  As 
she  ran  over  the  pages  she  wondered  if 
Maitland  were  not  such  a  man  as  Casal — a 
magnetic  creature,  whose  power  lay  in  his 
boldness,  who  was  selfish  even  in  love. 
Perhaps. 

A  servant  entered  and  announced  "Mr. 
Maitland." 

Violet  glanced  up  languidly. 

He  is  good-looking,  she  thought,  thor 
oughly  groomed,  thoroughly  self-possessed. 
His  hair  was  too  smoothly  brushed.  She 
felt  a  desire  to  rumple  it. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Maitland?"  she 
said,  extending  her  hand. 

"I  am  rather  seedy.  I  met  some  old 
colleagues  at  the  club  last  night ;  we  talked 
until  four  this  morning." 

"How  stupid." 

"Yes,  I  just  got  up  in  time  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Cortland,  and  come  here." 

"How  very  prompt  you  are.  Was  it 
necessary  to  see  her  to-day?" 

"No,  but  it  is  a  continental  habit  to  pay 
for  a  dinner  immediately  with  a  pasteboard, 
and  start  again  with  a  clean  score." 

"Was  she  at  home?" 


48  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Very  much  at  home.  There  was  an 
ambassador  there,  not  to  mention  a  minis 
ter  or  two,  and  a  number  of  humbler  satel 
lites  like  myself." 

"Mrs.  Cortland  is  an  amusing  woman ; 
her  originality  is  refreshing." 

"Yes,  to  me  she  is  about  as  refreshing  as 
a  summer  drink.  She  is  very  cool  and  she 
makes  me  hot." 

"You  do  not  like  her,"  said  Violet. 

"On  the  contrary  she  does  not  like  me." 

"She  has  never  spoken  ill  of  you  to  me." 

"But  my  intuition  in  such  matters  is  in 
fallible."  ' 

"Which  reminds  me,"  said  Violet,  tak 
ing  a  paper  knife  from  the  table  and  play 
ing  with  it,  "of  your  boasted  infallibility  as 
a  chiromancer." 

"Yes,  palmistry  is  my  religion.  I  even 
go  to  the  scriptures  for  its  tenets." 

"How  perfectly  absurd,"  said  Violet. 

"Not  at  all.  In  Proverbs  there  is  a  line 
which  says,  'Length  of  days  is  in  her  right 
hand,  riches  and  honor  in  her  left,'  and  in 
Samuel,  'What  evil  is  in  my  hand?'  ' 

"There  must  be  some  good  in  it  if  it  has 
made  you  read  the  Bible,"  laughed  Violet. 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS  49 

"Let  me  see  your  hand,  perhaps  I  can 
convince  you." 

Violet,  smiling  incredulously,  put  out  her 
hand. 

Maitland  examined  it  minutely,  the  for 
mation,  the  shape  of  the  fingers,  the  text 
ure,  nothing  escaped  his  careful  glance. 

"Now  the  right  hand,"  he  said  after  a 
few  moments  of  careful  study. 

Violet  watched  his  face.  He  was  evi 
dently  deeply  absorbed  and  serious. 

"Well,"  she  said  finally,  "aren't  you 
going  to  tell  me  anything?" 

"I  have  to  study  the  hands  carefully  to 
see  how  one  characteristic  affects  another. 
For  instance  you  have  what  is  called  the 
conic  hand.  That  means  that  you  are  im 
pulsive,  artistic,  and  fond  of  luxury.  You 
are  essentially  emotional,  but  that  is  coun 
teracted  to  a  great  extent  by  your  splendid 
will  power." 

"Where  do  you  find  that?" 

"In  the  thumb.  The  thumb  individu 
alizes  a  person.  Yours  shows  that  you  are 
often  able  to  control  your  natural  impulses." 

He  then  examined  her  fingers.  "Your 
fingers  are  long,"  he  said.  "Long-fingered 


50  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

people  are  exact  in  matters  of  dress,  care 
ful  about  the  amenities  of  life,  extremely 
fond  of  detail.  They  worry  over  little 
things,  and  are  apt  to  be  affected." 

."I  am  glad  to  know  I  am  affected. 
What  else  that  is  awful  do  you  find?"  said 
Violet,  rather  resentfully. 

"I  find  that  you  are  independent  in 
thought,  extremely  proud,  and  very  am 
bitious;  all  that  is  in  the  fingers,  they  bend 
back,  too,  which  means  that  you  are  affable 
and  clever,  a  success  socially,  I  should 
say." 

"But  the  lines  of  the  hand,  you  have  said 
nothing  about  them  yet?" 

"But  I  have  looked  at  them,"  smiled 
Maitland.  "Before  I  get  through  I  shall 
know  you  more  intimately  than  you  know 
yourself." 

"What  a  horrible  prospect,"  she  said, 
pretending  to  stifle  a  yawn.  One's  self  is, 
however,  invariably  an  attractive  topic,  and 
Violet  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  She 
was  intensely  interested  in  what  Maitland 
was  saying.  Her  languid  manner  was  as 
sumed. 

"How   thoroughly   ambitious  you    are," 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  51 

said  Maitland  smiling,  "and  yet  how  thor 
oughly  feminine  at  heart.  This  mount  at  the 
base  of  the  first  finger,  the  mount  of  Jupi 
ter,  is  strangely  developed,  there  is  the  am 
bition,  pride  and  love  of  power  again,  but 
the  line  of  the  heart  is  deep,  clear  and  well 
colored.  It  rises  too  in  Jupiter  and  runs 
to  the  side  of  the  hand.  Yes,  you  are 
capable  of  great  love  and  jealousy.  Your 
life  will  be  a  struggle  between  pride  and 
love." 

"And  of  course  love  will  conquer.  It 
always  does." 

Maitland  smiled.  "You  have  not  been 
in  love  yet,  nothing  more  than  a  flirtation 
or  two." 

"That  is  the  first  true  thing  you  have 
said." 

"But  love  is  coming,  and  that  very  soon. 
I  see  two  breaks  in  the  heart  line.  You 
will  have  two  disappointments  in  love,  one 
through  folly  or  caprice,  the  other  through 
pride." 

"Will  the  gentleman  be  dark  or  fair?" 
Violet  asked,  sarcastically. 

"One  of  them  will  give  you  trouble 
enough.  See  that  line  here  on  Mars,  run- 


52  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

ning  down  into  the  life  line ;  he  will  make 
the  running  hard." 

"Do  I  marry  him?" 

"No,  but  there  are  two  of  them,  you 
know.  The  first  disappointment  will  be 
through  your  own  folly.  A  man  will  jilt 
you  I  should  say." 

"That  is  comforting.     And  the  second?" 

"There  pride  steps  in.  It  is  probably 
revenge  for  the  first.  You  may  become 
engaged  to  a  man  you  do  not  love." 

Violet  was  silent  a  moment. 

"I  think  you  are  clever,"  she  said, 
finally,  "as  an  observer  of  character,  but  I 
do  not  believe  that  you  can  predict  the 
future." 

"Time  will  tell.  For  my  part  I  believe 
it  fully." 

"And  your  own  hand?"  she  asked. 

"No  one  has  ever  studied  my  hand.  It 
is  bad,  very  bad." 

"You  might  show  me,  you  know  I  do  not 
believe." 

Maitland  hesitated  a  moment,  then  he 
turned  his  palm  so  that  she  might  see  the 
lines. 

"But  I  know  nothing." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  53 

"Would  you  have  me  show  myself  up?" 

"Yes." 

He  laughed  curiously.  "There,"  he 
said,  "is  my  heart  line.  It  rises  in  Saturn, 
is  short  and  high  in  hand;  it  is  thin  and 
pale,  and  the  head  line  rises  towards  it 
almost  joining  it.  That  all  means  that  I 
am  cold,  selfish  and  designing,  that  my 
head  governs  my  heart,  and  that  I  shall 
never  experience  genuine  love." 

"And  I  think  none  the  less  of  you," 
said  Violet.  "You  are  too  frank  to  be  self 
ish  and  designing." 

"I  am  selfish,"  he  said  bitterly.  "I 
have  had  enough  hard  knocks  to  make  me 
so." 

Violet  looked  at  him  quizzically.  "You 
impress  me  as  a  person  to  whom  everything 
comes,"  she  said.  "Your  manner  is  confi 
dent.  You  have  faith  in  your  own  power. 
Such  people  always  succeed." 

"You  are  clever, "  he  said  slowly,  looking 
into  her  eyes. 

"No,  I  am  merely  observant." 

"Which  is  all  there  is  to  cleverness." 

"No,  sometimes  it  is  the  gift  of  express 
ing  platitudes  picturesquely." 


54  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Maitland  laughed. 

"All  of  which  leads  to  nothing  or  means 
nothing,"  he  said.  "What  were  we  talk 
ing  about?" 

"Yourself.      How  did  you  digress?" 

"Because  the  subject  was  distasteful." 

"Most  men  adore  talking  about  them 
selves." 

"Or  rather  their  love  affairs.  I  am 
different,  because  I  have  had  none.  I 
would  prefer  talking  about  you,  or  on 
second  thought,  I  should  prefer  to  go. 
You  as  a  subject  are  too  absorbing,  I  might 
outstay  my  welcome." 

"Yes,  you  would  better  not  talk  about 
me,"  she  said;  "I  have  no  patience  with 
men  who  talk  about  me  to  my  face,  and  no 
respect  for  those  who  talk  about  me  behind 
my  back." 

"How  cruel,"  he  said,  leaving  his  seat. 
"When  I  am  with  you  I  must  confine  my 
admiration  to  my  eyes,  and  when  I  am 
away  I  must  keep  it  entirely  in  my  thoughts. 
That  is  a  difficult  task." 

"And  I  am  an  exacting  task  master." 

"Take  care,"  he  said,    laughingly,  "the 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  55 

more  exacting  you  are  the  more  I  shall  care 
for  you." 

"I  might  even  endure  that  if  you  are 
sufficiently  devoted." 

"That  I  will  never  be,"  said  Maitland. 
"Women  despise  devoted  men." 

Violet  did  not  reply.  She  looked 
thoughtfully  at  the  floor.  She  was  think 
ing  of  Jack  Hardy. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Maitland,  extending 
his  hand. 

"Good-bye,"  she  answered  rather  sud 
denly. 

"Remember  all  I  have  told  you,"  he  said 
holding  her  hand  for  a  moment.  "The 
unhappiness  is  coming  very  soon.  Your 
own  folly  will  bring  it.  You  see  I  have 
warned  you." 

' '  Yes,  but  what  use  is  a  warning  ?  One  acts 
from  impulse,  warnings  only  frighten  one." 

"Then  be  very  frightened,"  he  answered, 
taking  a  step  towards  the  door,  "that  may 
avert  the  evil." 

"But  if  it  is  fate?"  she  said  tossing  back 
her  head  suddenly. 

He  did  not  hear.     He  had  gone. 


V 

"THEIR  PURPOSE  is  TO  PARLE,  TO  COURT  AND 
DANCE." 

Love's  Labour  's  Lost,   V.  2. 

The  Honorable  Silas  Smith  was  a  West 
ern  senator  whose  favorite  haunt  was  Cham 
berlain's.  He  wore  sleek  broadcloth 
clothes  and  a  slouch  hat;  his  chin  was 
ornamented  with  a  tuft  of  scraggy  gray 
whiskers  and  his  watch  was  guarded  by  a 
massive  gold  chain.  A  well  chewed  cigar 
was  ever  between  his  lips,  and  his  hands 
were  ever  in  his  pockets.  He  had  been  an 
early  settler,  and  he  was  the  richest  man  in 
his  state,  two  necessary  elements  of  popu 
larity  with  Western  legislatures.  As  long 
as  he  continued  to  act  as  the  attorney  for 
his  state  without  regard  to  the  interests  of 
the  nation  at  large,  and  to  tap  his  "barrel  " 
on  demand,  he  had  reasonable  hopes  of  re 
taining  his  seat  in  the  senate  until  decrepi 
tude  should  force  his  retirement. 

Silas  Smith  had  but  two  passions,  adula- 
56 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS  57 

tion  and  poker.  He  delighted  in  the  con 
sideration  of  his  fellow-men.  He  was  in  his 
own  opinion  a  man  of  national  importance, 
representing  a  great  commonwealth,  and  the 
true  senatorial  dignity  was  never  absent 
from  his  manner,  unless  perhaps  when  he 
was  gathered  with  a  few  boon  colleagues 
about  a  green-covered  table ;  and  the  sena 
torial  game  was  at  its  height.  Then  he 
was  in  his  element.  Perhaps  he  actually 
forgot  the  existence  of  Mrs.  Silas  Smith,  a 
difficult  task  for  a  man  so  much  married. 

"Mrs.  Senator  Smith,"  as  the  society  re 
porters  persisted  in  calling  her,  in  direct 
defiance  of  titular  usage,  was  a  snappy  lit 
tle  woman  with  tightly-drawn  skin  and 
little  piercing  eyes,  who  spent  the  greater 
portion  of  her  life  in  fluttering  in  and  out 
of  official  drawing-rooms  on  the  official  after 
noons  at  home.  Her  wizened  face,  with 
its  sharp  outlines  and  ringlets  of  gray  hair 
plastered  on  the  sallow  forehead,  was  every 
where  present.  She  had  few  friends,  but 
she  had  built  a  palace  in  Dupont  Circle 
and  her  only  daughter  had  just  made  her 
bow  to  society.  Mrs.  Smith  had  been  per 
sistent  in  her  efforts,  and  people  were  begin- 


58  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

ning  to  treat  her  with  some  consideration. 
She  was  often  met  in  unofficial  drawing- 
rooms,  and  the  smart  young  diplomats  and 
department  clerks  began  to  include  her  in 
their  round  of  Sunday  calls,  while  Phoebe 
Smith,  the  daughter,  was  invited  every 
where. 

Miss  Smith  was  one  of  those  mouse-like 
girls  who  steal  in  and  out  of  a  room  so 
quietly  that  their  presence  is  unnoticed ;  an 
inoffensive  person,  whom  it  was  difficult  to 
recognize  except  by  her  gowns,  and  as  she 
changed  these  frequently,  she  was  being  con 
tinually  forgotten  by  the  people  she  had 
met.  However,  she  was  often  asked  to 
dance  by  the  young  men,  who  were  able  to 
remember  her,  and  her  admiring  mother 
considered  her  a  great  social  success. 

Perhaps  the  senator's  millions  were  an 
item  not  lost  sight  of  by  the  dancing  men. 
It  was  even  rumored  that  one  or  two  of 
them  had  asked  her  hand  in  marriage.  At 
least  they  no  longer  asked  her  to  dance. 
Mrs.  Smith,  however,  had  great  aspirations 
for  Phoebe;  a  department  clerk  was  not  to 
be  considered. 

It  was  a  master-stroke  of  diplomacy  which 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  59 

prompted  Mrs.  Smith  to  give  a  dance,  not 
so  much  the  giving  of  the  dance,  however, 
as  the  selection  of  Dick  Willing  to  lead  the 
cotillon.  He  threw  such  dash  into  his  lead 
ing  and  was  so  immensely  popular  with  the 
younger  girls  that  any  function  he  managed 
was  sure  to  be  a  pronounced  success. 

But  it  took  a  great  exercise  of  tact  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Smith  to  obtain  his  co-opera 
tion.  Dick  Willing  was  an  old  Washing- 
tonian  and  shared  the  old  Washingtonian 
distaste  for  parvenus,  but  after  some 
months  of  delicate  manoeuvring,  during 
which  Dick  was  frequently  placed  under 
social  obligations  to  Mrs.  Smith,  she  finally 
broached  the  subject  of  her  dance,  and  the 
young  man  found  himself  in  a  position 
where  a  refusal  was  impossible. 

He  was  given  carte  blanche  and  free 
access  to  the  senator's  bank  account. 
Sherry  was  to  come  on  from  New  York  to 
serve  the  supper.  There  was  to  be  a  Hun 
garian  orchestra  from  the  metropolis  to 
alternate  with  the  Marine  band,  and  the 
green-houses  of  Washington  were  to  be 
stripped  bare  to  supply  the  floral  decora 
tions. 


60  THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

Dick  Willing  said  that  if  he  must  under 
take  the  task,  he  would  give  people  some 
thing  to  talk  about,  and  they  did  talk  for 
days  before  the  event.  The  wildest  rumors 
were  floating  about.  Mrs.  Cortland  said 
she  had  heard  that  diamond  brooches  were 
to  be  given  as  favors,  and  Komlossy  stated 
that  he  knew  positively  that  coffee  was  to 
be  served  in  gold  cups  studded  with  pre 
cious  stones,  such  as  are  used  by  the  Sultan ; 
while  General  Lloyd  whispered  about  as  the 
most  astonishing  story  of  all,  that  Senator 
Smith  had  been  persuaded  to  discard  his 
watch  chain,  and  would  appear  in  a  suit  of 
evening  clothes  imported  from  London  espe 
cially  for  the  occasion.  Somebody  even 
hinted  that  the  senator  would  treat  his 
cronies  in  the  smoking-room  to  Scotch  and 
soda  instead  of  bourbon,  but  nobody  be 
lieved  that. 

Dick  Willing  carefully  supervised  the  in 
vitation  list  so  that  only  the  smartest  people 
were  invited.  The  number  was  necessarily 
small,  because  Mrs.  Smith  did  not  know  all 
the  smart  people,  and  in  spite  of  the  re 
monstrances  of  the  senator  that  all  his 
friends  were  left  out,  no  one  was  invited 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  61 

who  would  not  add  distinction  to  the  occa 
sion. 

Of  course  numerous  senatorial  and  con 
gressional  "ladies  "  were  furious  at  being 
excluded,  and  many  vows  of  vengeance 
were  registered  against  "Mrs.  Senator 
Smith."  The  senator  even  was  treated 
with  marked  coolness  by  some  of  his  col 
leagues,  but  Mrs.  Smith  wore  a  triumphant 
smile.  She  was  "getting  there  "  at  last. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Cortland,"  said  Kom- 
lossy  to  his  companion  as  they  entered 
Mrs.  Smith's  drawing-room  on  the  eventful 
evening  of  the  dance;  "I  should  call  this 
the  age  of  persistent  parvenus." 

"And  perverted  peers,"  added  Mrs. 
Cortland. 

"Yes,  money  will  now  buy  even  a  peer." 

"But  the  parvenu  of  to-day  is  the  peer 
of  to-morrow." 

"Alas,  yes,"  said  Komlossy,  mournfully. 
"In  feudal  days  the  aristocracy  owned  the 
money;  now  money  owns  the  aristocracy." 

"And  why  not?  To  be  a  millionaire 
means  to  be  a  successful  man.  As  Na 
poleon  said :  '  It  is  greater  to  be  an  ancestor 
than  merely  a  descendant.' 


62  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"But  wealth  to  be  attractive  requires 
age;  it  must  be  old  and  crusty  like  good 
port.  New-made  wealth  is  crude  and  vul 
gar.  I  hate  new  things.  I  hate  mushroom 
millionaires." 

"Society  must  be  fed.  Society  must  be 
amused.  What  would  society  be  without 
millionaires  to  give  extravagant  parties? 
Merely  a  collection  of  insolvent  blue-bloods 
bemoaning  the  past." 

"At  least  they  would  have  ancestors." 

"Who  stole  cattle,  butchered  men  and 
bought  titles  for  themselves,  while  our  mil 
lionaires  rob  men,  butcher  cattle  and  buy 
titles  for  their  daughters.  What  is  the 
difference?  Merely  one  of  age  and  oppor 
tunity." 

"I  see  you  are  incorrigible,"  said  the 
little  man,  "so  let  us  sit  down  here  and  watch 
the  arrivals.  The  manner  in  which  people 
enter  a  drawing-room  forms  an  interesting 
character  study." 

Mrs.  Smith  stood  near  the  door  greeting 
her  guests.  It  was  the  proudest,  happiest 
moment  of  her  life.  As  one  by  one  the 
best  people  of  the  capital  filed  past  her,  she 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  63 

felt  the  exultant  thrill  a  conqueror  might 
feel  in  surveying  a  victorious  field.  Meek, 
docile  Phoebe  Smith  stood  beside  her  mother 
and  smirked.  Even  she  felt  a  tremor  of 
satisfaction,  but  the  expression  on  the  sen 
ator's  face  was  of  resigned  martyrdom.  He 
fidgeted  in  his  new  clothes,  he  plunged 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  but  remembering 
his  wife's  admonition,  he  drew  them  out 
hurriedly  with  a  sheepish  side  glance.  Then 
he  wandered  about  the  room  and  tried  in 
vain  to  feel  at  home  until  he  spied  a  col 
league  whose  wife  also  had  social  am 
bitions.  Senator  Smith  heartily  greeted 
the  new-comer  with  "Hello,  Jones,  let's 
have  a  drink,"  and  two  broad-shouldered 
solons  disappeared  through  a  neighboring 
door,  and  were  seen  no  more  until  the  host 
was  hurriedly  summoned  to  take  the  wife  of 
the  British  ambassador  to  supper. 

"There  goes  your  friend,  Ritchie  Mait- 
land,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland  to  her  compan 
ion.  "The  most  discontented  people  in 
the  world  are  dismissed  diplomats.  I 
think  it  would  be  a  chanty  to  behead  them 
actually  as  well  as  officially. ' ' 


64  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

"It  would  be  less  barbarous  to  keep  them 
in  office  during  good  behavior,  and  reward 
their  efforts  by  promotion." 

"But  that  is  undemocratic.  Rotation  in 
office  you  know." 

"Then  why  not  rotate  the  army  officers. 
It  is  quite  as  logical,  and  would  make  so 
many  more  generals  to  wear  rosettes  in  their 
buttonholes.  I  have  never  been  able  to 
understand  the  fondness  of  you  democrats 
for  titles  and  decorations.  But  then 
democracies  are  after  all  merely  inconsist 
encies." 

"And  I  have  never  been  able  to  under 
stand  the  extreme  delight  foreigners  take  in 
finding  fault  with  American  peccadillos ;  why 
not  judge  us  by  our  triumphs,  not  our  trivial 
ities." 

'  'Because  America  is  a  big,  over-grown, 
precocious  child,  and  the  peccadillos  of  the 
child,  unless  corrected,  become  the  vices  of 
the  man.  We  take  a  father's  interest  in 
you,  that  is  all." 

"Rather  the  jealousy  of  a  father  who 
cannot  see  his  offspring  outstrip  himself." 

"With  you  Americans  patriotism  is  self- 
complacency;  with  us  it  is  self-sacrifice." 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS  65 

The  minister  said  this  rather  snappishly. 
Mrs.  Cortland  merely  smiled. 

"Fancy  you  sacrificing  yourself  on  any 
altar,  unless  there  be  a  goddess  named 
Culina.  Even  then  the  sacrifice  would  be 
merely  one  of  digestion." 

"How  rude  you  are  to-night,"  said  the 
minister. 

"No,  I  am  merely  disappointing.  The 
women  flatter  you  so  much  that  an  occa 
sional  truth  is  unendurable." 

"Ritchie  Maitland,  I  believe,  not  I,  is 
the  subject  of  discussion." 

"Very  well,  what  do  you  think  of  him?" 

"My  opinion  would  be  too  complacent. 
Yours  might  have  a  dash  of  caustic. 

"To  me  he  seems  merely  an  office- 
seeker.  ' ' 

"Most  Americans  are  that." 

"But  he  belongs  to  the  obsequious,  not 
the  obstreperous  type." 

"How  do  you  distinguish  them?"  asked 
Komlossy. 

"Why  the  latter  comes  to  Washington 
with  a  brass  band,  and  the  indorsement  of 
everybody  in  his  state  from  sheriff  to 
senator;  he  gets  a  refusal  or  at  most  a  coun- 


66  THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS 

try  post-office.  The  former  makes  himself 
indispensable  to  some  politician  and  gets 
what  he  wants." 

"Then  you  think  Mr.  Maitland  will  suc 
ceed  ?' ' 

"I  think  he  is  too  clever;  he  has  too 
many  irons  in  the  fire.  If  he  would  stick 
to  General  Lloyd,  for  instance,  and  let  the 
others  alone,  his  efforts  would  be  less  appar 
ent  and  more  probable  of  success." 

"I  should  advise  him  to  make  love  to 
Violet  Duncan.  Men  rule  the  world,  and 
women  rule  the  men." 

"Violet  is  too  clever  to  be  taken  in." 

"Clever  women  are  usually  taken  in  by 
men.  It  is  the  silly  women  who  take  men 
in.' 

"Violet  has  seen  too  many  men  to  be 
fooled  by  mere  cleverness.  The  man  who 
wins  her  must  have  a  heart  as  well  as  an  in 
tellect." 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Komlossy,  cynic 
ally.  "In  the  meantime  let  us  walk 
about  and  see  all  the  gorgeousness. 
What  a  pity  they  have  taken  the  price 
marks  off.  I  should  like  to  know  what  it 
all  cost." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  67 

Violet  Duncan  entered  the  room.  Her 
beauty  was  commanding;  her  carriage  was 
perfect.  Many  a  faultless  face  is  ruined  by 
a  faulty  walk.  Beauty  to  be  truly  beauti 
ful  must  be  dignified ;  when  it  is  of  the 
dainty,  dimpled  order,  it  is  merely  prettiness. 
Violet  was  truly  beautiful;  men  and  even 
women  paused  to  admire. 

"What  a  pity  she  is  poor,"  said 
Mrs.  Elliott.  "She  was  born  to  be  a 
duchess." 

"And  dukes  have  a  disagreeable  habit  of 
marrying  ducats.  Haven't  they?"  put  in 
Mrs.  Love. 

"She  is  so  stately,"  said  General  Lloyd. 

"And  so  cold,"  added  Mrs.  Love. 

"Just  like  a  statue,"  said  Mrs.  Elliott. 
"An  exquisite  creation  with  a  heart  of  mar 
ble." 

"I  wonder  whom  she  will  marry?"  asked 
the  General. 

"A  millionaire,  of  course,  whom  else 
could  she  marry?  "  replied  Mrs.  Love. 

"  She  would  do  honor  to  a  king," 
answered  the  General  tartly.  Then  he 
walked  away  abruptly. 

"I    actually  believe    General    Lloyd    has 


68  THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

hopes    himself,    don't    you,    dear?"     said 

Mrs.  Love. 

f 

"Aspirations  would  be  the  better  term," 
repHed  Mrs.  Elliott.  "Violet  Duncan 
would  make  an  ideal  wife  for  an  aspiring 
politician.  General  Lloyd  is  ambitious  and 
rich.  Violet  is  poor  and  tactful.  Who 
knows  what  might  happen?  See,  he  is  talk 
ing  to  her  now." 

"How  clever  you  are,  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Love. 

General  Lloyd  joined  the  little  group  of 
men  who  had  already  surrounded  Violet. 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Richards,"  she  was 
saying,  "but  I  promised  to  dance  the  cotil 
lon  with  Mr.  Maitland,  at  least  a  week 
ago." 

"The  fourth  dance  did  you  say  Captain 
Smith.  No,  you  can  't  have  that,  but  the 
fifth;  will  that  do?" 

"Please  Mees  Duncan,"  pleaded  Count 
Albuquerque;  "one  little  dance  for  me,  and 
not  a  valse.  I  cannot  dance  him." 

"The  sixth,  but  you  must  remember  it 
yourself.  I  am  sure  I  shall  forget  that  far 
ahead." 

"I   shall   remember  it   always,"  said  the 


THE  VICE  OF  FOOLS  69 

count,  clicking  his  heels  together  and  bow 
ing-  v 

"I  cannot  dance,  but  may  I  admire?" 
said  General  Lloyd,  with  old-time  suavity. 
"One  glance  at  the  queen,  is  all  I  ask." 

"Beautiful!  General,"  said  Violet;  "but 
how  many  women  have  you  already  said 
that  to  this  evening?  I  am  sure  I  could 
name  at  least  three." 

The  General  frowned. 

"Miss  Duncan,"  he  said,  "the  value  of  a 
compliment  lies  in  its  intention.  My  in 
tention  was  truthful.  Were  I  courageous 
I  would  ask  you  to  walk  with  me  to  the 
next  room,  where  it  is  cool,  and  there  is  a 
capital  punch." 

"Then  as  you  are  timid  I  will  ask  you," 
she  said,  taking  his  arm. 

There  was  a  twanging  of  cymballos,  a 
tremor  of  violins,  as  the  strains  of  a  waltz 
burst  forth  in  weird,  Hungarian  rhythm. 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Violet;  "I  have  prom 
ised  this  dance.  I  hope  he  won't  find  me, 
he  is  such  a  silly  little  man,  and  he  treads 
on  one's  toes  so  distressingly." 

"Miss  Duncan,"  called  an  effeminate 
voice  at  her  elbow;  "I  think  this  is  our 


yo  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

dance.  I  have  been  watching  you  for  ever 
so  long.  I  feared  I  might  not  find  you 
when  the  time  came." 

"How  considerate,"  said  Violet;  "you 
must  excuse  me,  General  Lloyd." 

"With  reluctance." 

Violet  patiently  placed  her  arm  on  the 
little  man's  shoulder;  she  had  forgotten  his 
name  though  she  had  a  painful  recollection 
of  having  danced  with  him  before.  For  a 
full  minute  he  jumped  up  and  down  on  his 
toes  counting  one,  two,  three,  one,  two, 
three,  to  himself;  but  his  efforts  to  catch 
the  time  were  fruitless,  and  finally  in  des 
peration  he  whirled  Violet  away  with  per 
spiring,  frenzied  disregard  of  all  terpsich- 
orean  tempo. 

General  Lloyd  watched  them  intently. 
In  and  out  of  the  maze  of  waltzers  they 
went;  the  little  man  struggling,  tramping, 
gyrating;  Violet,  with  the  ease  and  grace 
of  a  perfect  dancer,  doing  her  best  to  avoid 
a  catastrophe. 

An  expression  of  pain  crossed  her  face 
suddenly.  The  General  remembered  her 
toes.  Then  she  smiled  sweetly  at  her  dis 
comfited  partner. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  71 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Gen 
eral?"  asked  Mrs.  Love,  who  was  standing 
next  him.  "You  look  so  intense." 

"I  was  thinking  that  there  is  but  one 
thing  so  deceptive  as  a  pretty  woman's 
smile." 

"And  that  is?" 

"Her  words." 

"Pretty  women  are  not  all  insincere." 

"No,  some  are  merely  inconstant." 

"You  are  very  disagreeable,  General." 

"No,  I  am  merely  discerning.  A  plain 
woman's  constancy  is  the  work  of  Provi 
dence  ;  that  of  a  pretty  woman  depends  very 
much  upon  the  man  she  falls  in  love  with." 

"What  a  lot  of  infidelity  you  must  be  re 
sponsible  for,"  said  Mrs.  Love,  with  a  sar 
castic  chuckle. 

"I  hate  that  woman,"  mused  the  Gen 
eral,  as  he  moved  away. 

Supper  was  served  in  a  temporary  room 
built  for  the  occasion.  The  walls  were  cov 
ered  with  Syrian  draperies.  Here  and  there 
palms  and  foliage  plants  were  massed  pro 
fusely,  while  the  white  tables  were  heaped 
with  roses.  A  subdued  light  was  shed  by 
hanging  lamps  of  bronze  and  countless 


72  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

shaded  candles.  The  music  of  guitars  and 
mandolins  mingled  with  laughter. 

Violet  paused  in  the  doorway.  She  was 
with  Jack  Hardy.  They  were  looking  for 
seats. 

Some  people  were  just  leaving  a  small 
table  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  room. 

"There  is  a  place,  Jack,"  she  said. 
"Run  and  get  it  before  it  is  taken.  I  will 
follow.'* 

Hardy  departed  to  secure  the  table. 
Maitland,  who  had  been  watching  an  oppor 
tunity  to  speak  to  Violet,  approached 
quickly. 

"You  would  not  take  supper  with  me," 
he  said,  "and  I  am  unwilling  to  be  with  any 
one  else ;  will  you  not  grant  me  a  seat  at 
your  table?  It  will  be  a  charity,  not  a 
favor. ' ' 

"To  do  charity  is  always  a  pleasure.  I 
am  glad  you  put  it  in  the  light  of 
charity." 

At  the  sight  of  Maitland,  Hardy  glow 
ered.  He  had  asked  Violet  to  take  supper 
with  him  some  ten  days  previously,  and  he 
considered  Maitland' s  intrusion  an  imperti 
nence.  He  was  not  a  diplomat,  so  instead 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  73 

of  outshining  his  rival,  he  sulked, — a  danger 
ous  experiment  for  a  man  in  love. 

Maitland  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance, 
and  smiled  to  himself.  Violet  made  several 
ineffectual  attempts  at  a  pacification,  which 
Hardy  refused  to  accept ;  then  she  finally 
turned  to  talk  to  Maitland. 

It  was  exactly  what  Mr.  Ritchie  Mait 
land  wanted,  and  exactly  what  he  had 
planned.  He  had  been  studiously  civil  to 
Hardy,  and  Violet  thought  that  Jack  was 
behaving  peevishly. 

"I  wonder,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said  Violet, 
"if  you  are  affected  by  your  surroundings. 
Could  you  be  unhappy  in  a  ball-room?" 

"A  cruel  glance  could  make  me  unhappy 
anywhere." 

"That  remark  is  trite.  You  can  do  bet 
ter,  I  am  sure." 

"Truths  are  always  trite  because  they  are 
so  apparent.  It  is  only  a  brilliant  lie  which 
dazzles." 

"Then  lie  to  me." 

"I  fear  I  should  fail  in  that  also,  except 
in  that  the  spoken  truth  would  be  half  a  lie 
because  words  could  only  half  express  my 
admiration." 


74  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"That  is  better.  Yes,  I  like  you  better 
as  a  liar." 

"I  should  outshine  Ananias  if  it  would 
make  you  like  me." 

"Ananias  was  a  clumsy  tyro,"  put  in 
Jack  Hardy.  "Diplomacy  had  not  been 
invented  in  his  day." 

"There  was  no  need  for  diplomacy  then," 
said  Maitland;  "soldiers  were  always  ready 
to  fight." 

Hardy  blushed  angrily. 

"The  pouring  of  oil  on  troubled  waters  is 
an  ancient  art  at  least,"  said  Violet  with  a 
disapproving  glance  at  Jack. 

He  smothered  the  retort  which  had  been 
on  his  lips. 

"Were  I  a  cynic,"  said  Maitland,  rais 
ing  his  glass,  "I  should  say  that  love 
inspires  the  ecstasy  of  an  hour,  but 
when  its  exhilaration  is  over,  it  leaves 
regrets  for  the  excesses  it  has  led  us 
into." 

"Such  remarks  make  one  doubt  human 
nature,"  said  Violet;  "or  at  least  doubt  the 
man  who  makes  them." 

"Do  n't  forget  that  I  am  lying  to  please 
you." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  75 

"The  way  to  please  me  is  to  be  true  to 
yourself.  I  hate  insincerity." 

There  was  a  tone  of  resentment  in  Vio 
let's  voice;  a  tone  betraying  a  certain  in 
terest  in  Maitland,  which  he  was  quick  to 
notice. 

"I  am  sincere,"  he  said  earnestly;  "but 
sincerity  is  at  such  a  discount  nowadays  that 
one  often  tries  to  disguise  one's  true  feelings 
by  flippant  words." 

"A  sincere  person  never  trifles,"  said 
Hardy. 

"Trifling  is  purely  adventitious,"  an 
swered  Maitland  with  studied  indifference. 
"But  insincerity  is  intentional,  therefore  it 
resembles  incivility." 

"I  think,"  said  Violet  coldly,  "that  a 
ball-room  conversation  should  be  purely  in 
cidental.  Sentiments  are  best  left  unex 
pressed.  Shall  we  go  back  now  ?"  she  con 
tinued,  rising  from  her  seat.  "We  all  seem 
to  have  finished." 

Maitland  walked  with  Violet,  and  Jack 
Hardy  followed  sulkily.  Hardy  was  not 
naturally  rude ;  on  the  contrary  he  was  big- 
hearted  and  generous,  but  he  was  in  love, 
and  rudeness  to  a  rival  is  a  prerogative  of  a 


76  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

man  in  love.  Perhaps  he  did  not  consider 
Maitland  in  the  light  of  a  rival,  but  he  was 
an  interloper  whom  Violet  seemed  distinctly 
to  favor.  Jack  knew  that  in  their  conver 
sational  tilt  he  had  been  no  match  for  the 
ex-diplomat.  He  had  lost  his  temper, 
always  a  confession  of  weakness,  and  he  felt 
heartily  ashamed  of  himself. 

When  they  reached  the  ball-room  the 
cotillon  was  commencing.  Hardy  had  no 
heart  for  dancing.  He  stood  with  a  group 
of  men,  thronging  a  doorway. 

Maitland  was  a  master  dancer.  As  he 
guided  Violet  through  the  crowded  ball 
room  she  felt  that  she  had  never  met  his 
equal.  The  music  was  enchanting,  the 
floor  perfection.  Silently  they  waltzed 
awhile,  then  she  said:  ''Why  did  you  send 
me  these  yellow  roses,  they  are  the  color  of 
jealousy?" 

"Because  you  make  me  realize  that  jeal 
ousy  is  a  possibility." 

"But  not  a  probability.  Love  precedes 
jealousy,  and  you  are  too  selfish  to  love 
any  one." 

"Love  is  the  most  selfish  of  sentiments; 
its  demands  are  so  exacting." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  77 

"That  is  a  man's  idea;  a  woman's  love  is 
absolutely  unselfish." 

"Could  you  be  unselfish,  that  is  to  say, 
generous  to  me,  I  wonder?" 

His  glance,  usually  so  cold,  for  the  mo 
ment  was  strangely  sympathetic.  Violet 
did  not  reply.  She  closed  her  eyes  and 
tried  to  shut  out  a  thought.  Their  steps 
moved  on  to  the  enchanting  music.  In  the 
darkness  she  seemed  to  be  carried  dreamily 
through  space  toward  some  great  danger. 
But  the  thought  was  fascinating.  The 
music  stopped ;  for  a  moment  they  danced 
on,  but  she  was  back  in  the  noisy  world  of 
people.  She  laughed  at  her  foolish  fancy. 

"You  are  so  very  quiet  to-night,"  he 
said.  "It  is  unlike  you." 

"Would  you  wish  me  to  prattle  inces 
santly  ?' ' 

"No,  but  when  you  are  silent  it  makes 
me  doubtful  of  my  effort  to  please." 

"Then  it  is  all  an  effort?" 

"Certainly,"  he  laughed,  "when  I  exert 
myself  it  means  that  I  am  anxious  to 
please.  I  am  usually  too  indifferent  to  take 
the  trouble." 

She  did  not  reply.     His  words  hurt  her, 


78  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

they  were  unlike  what  she  had  expected ; 
so  selfish,  so  brutal.  A  young  ensign 
handed  her  a  bunch  of  roses.  Violet 
smiled  and  thanked  him.  As  he  whirled 
her  away  among  the  dancers  she  turned  and 
looked  at  Maitland  reproachfully.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed.  Jack 
Hardy  saw  him.  "The  cad,"  he  muttered. 
Then  he  turned  away  and  wandered  into 
the  smoking-room. 

"What's  Maitland's  game?"  he  heard  a 
man  saying. 

Hardy  stopped  to  listen. 

"Why,  London  of  course.  You  don't 
suppose  a  chap  like  that  is  in  Washington 
for  his  health?"  There  were  several  in  the 
group — two  or  three  department  clerks  and 
a  foreign  secretary. 

"He  does  his  work  neatly,"  said  another. 
"Approaches  Secretary  Duncan  through  his 
daughter.  It  's  an  old  dodge  but  it  always 
works." 

Hardy  felt  an  impulse  to  strike  the  fel 
low.  There  are  times  when  a  man  longs 
for  a  return  to  the  days  of  duelling.  Why 
could  not  Violet  see  Maitland  as  he  saw 
him;  as  all  the  world  saw  him?  But  Hardy 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  79 

was  merely  a  fretful,  sensitive  man  in  love. 
He  hated  the  world  and  everybody  in  it — 
except  Violet. 

In  the  ball-room  Violet  was  triumphant. 
The  floor  behind  her  chair  was  heaped  with 
favors.  She  was  ever  in  the  throng  of 
dancers,  tall,  lithe,  radiant,  a  goddess  to 
whom  every  one  bowed — at  least  every  man. 

"What  a  pity  Violet  Duncan  romps  so," 
said  Mrs.  Elliott  in  a  whisper;  "it  is  undig 
nified." 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Love;  "she  is  too 
tall  to  make  herself  so  prominent." 

"I  do  n't  like  her  dress,  do  you?" 

"No,  it  's  too  fussy." 

"And  such  a  hanging  skirt." 

' '  I  wish  she  would  go  to  a  decent  dress 
maker." 

"Poor  dear,  she  can  't  afford  it." 

Meanwhile  an  aide-de-camp  away  over  in 
the  corner  was  arguing  violently  with  his 
partner  to  the  effect  that,  unless  a  woman 
was  beautiful,  her  other  talents,  howsoever 
worthy,  counted  for  naught. 

"Look  at  Violet  Duncan,"  he  said;  "she 
would  be  a  success  if  she  did  n't  have  an 
idea  in  her  head." 


8o  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  right.  Violet 
has  n't  an  idea  in  her  head,  unless  it  be  the 
idea  that  she  is  a  raving  beauty. 

Just  then  three  men  ran  a  race  the  length 
of  the  room  to  see  who  could  reach  Violet 
first.  A  girl  almost  as  pretty  as  Violet 
favored  the  soldier  with  an  appreciation  for 
beauty,  and  his  partner,  a  general's  daugh 
ter,  at  whose  shrine  he  had  been  sacrificed 
by  duty,  was  left  alone  in  the  corner  pick 
ing  to  pieces  the  only  bunch  of  flowers  she 
had  received  during  the  cotillon. 

Dick  Willing  fairly  outdid  himself  that 
evening;  he  led  with  a  dash  that  inspired 
emulation  in  his  followers.  Mrs.  Silas 
Smith  was  beaming  with  happiness.  Phoebe 
Smith,  radiant  with  smiles — Senator  Smith 
— the  fact  was  that  Senator  Smith  disap 
peared  upstairs  shortly  after  supper  with  a 
few  cronies,  and  was  not  seen  again.  Some 
one  passing  a  door  somewhere  heard  some 
thing  that  sounded  suspiciously  like  the 
rattling  of  round  pieces  of  ivory ;  but  it  was 
only  a  suspicion  as  the  door  was  locked. 

Dick  Willing  had  the  good  sense  to  stop 
the  cotillon  before  the  dancers  were  weary. 
There  were  loud  cries  for  more,  and  in  re- 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  81 

spon.se  the  Marine  band  struck  up  a  lively 
two-step.  Violet  danced  with  Maitland. 
It  was  no  longer  the  dreamy  waltz  but  the 
wild  abandon  of  rapid  movement.  Fairly 
intoxicated  with  excitement  she  glided  over 
the  shining  floor,  her  heart  beating  with 
wild,  delightful  pleasure.  On,  on  they 
danced,  until  she  reeled  with  dizziness. 
The  music  stopped.  Maitland  led  her 
quickly  out  of  the  ball-room  to  a  nook 
under  the  musicians'  gallery.  Breathless 
from  the  dance,  she  sank  among  the 
cushions  of  a  divan.  Her  cheeks  glowed 
from  the  exercise;  her  dark  eyes  glistened 
in  the  subdued  light.  A  Russian  belt  from 
the  Caucasus,  a  favor  in  the  last  figure,  lay 
carelessly  in  her  lap.  She  half  closed  her 
eyes  and  smiled  in  a  dreamy  way.  Mait 
land  seized  a  flower  from  his  buttonhole  and 
dropping  on  one  knee  before  her  said: 
"This  rose,  sacred  to  Aphrodite,  goddess 
of  beauty,  I  lay  at  her  feet  in  the  hope  that 
she  will  grant  me  her  magic  girdle  and 
thereby  render  me  invincible  in  love." 

Violet  took  the  belt  from  her  lap  and 
drew  it  over  his  head.  Laughing,  she 
said:  "The  girdle  is  thine,  oh,  mortal, 


82  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

but  thy  invincible  charms  are  to  be  invis 
ible." 

"To  all  but  the  goddess  who  gave  them, 
I  trust,"  said  Maitland,  rising  from  his 
knee.  "It  was  to  win  favor  in  her  eyes 
that  I  asked  the  boon."  He  smiled  mys 
teriously,  but  there  was  a  cold  ring  to  his 
words.  His  eyes  were  almost  tender. 

"The  way  to  win  my  favor,"  she  said, 
"is  to  teach  me  not  to  mistrust  you." 


VI 

"THINE   OWN   TRUE   KNIGHT." 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  II.  2. 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  knight-errant, 
Jack;  you  ought  to  have  been  born  in  the 
Middle  Ages  when  you  could  have  ridden 
through  the  world  on  a  charger,  righting 
the  wrongs  of  lovesick  maidens,  and  right 
ing  everybody  who  did  n't  agree  with  you." 

Violet  was  the  speaker.  She  and  Jack 
Hardy  had  ridden  out  to  the  Hunt  Club. 
It  was  a  crisp  winter  afternoon,  and  they 
were  warming  themselves  before  a  log  fire. 
Twilight  had  come  and  the  firelight  flick 
ered  on  their  faces;  in  the  shadow  beyond, 
huge  rafters  and  walls  hung  with  sporting 
prints  and  trophies  of  the  chase  were  dimly 
outlined. 

Jack  tapped  his  boot  thoughtfully  with 
his  riding  crop. 

"I  don't  think  you  have  ever  under 
stood  me,"  he  said  finally;  "I  am  not  a 
visionary. ' ' 

83 


84  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Then  why  are  you  continually  preach 
ing?"  she  answered  impatiently. 

"I  am  nothing  but  a  soldier,  Violet.  I 
am  used  to  activity;  I  can  't  get  accustomed 
to  the  life  here,  that  is  all." 

"Nonsense,  Jack,  it  is  a  soldier's  busi 
ness  to  adapt  himself  to  circumstances.  It 
would  be  far  better  for  you  if  you  had  never 
seen  the  frontier,  and  the  sooner  you  forget 
it  the  better.  Make  the  most  of  your 
opportunities." 

"I  must  be  a  very  disagreeable  person," 
he  said  resentfully. 

"No,  I  scold  for  your  own  good.  You 
have  been  acting  like  a  big  baby  lately; 
why,  at  the  ball  the  other  night  you  were  as 
peevish  as  a  spoiled  child.  Simply  because 
Mr.  Maitland  sat  down  at  our  table  you 
took  it  upon  yourself  to  be  as  disagreeable 
as  possible.  If  he  had  been  anything  but  a 
man  of  the  world  my  position  would  have 
been  unbearable." 

Hardy  moved  in  his  chair  restlessly. 
Many  thoughts  were  passing  through  his 
mind.  He  turned  and  looked  at  Violet. 
There  had  been  real  indignation  in  her 
voice;  there  was  a  flash  of  resentment, 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  85 

almost  of  anger  in  her  dark  eyes.  He 
knew  that  he  was  drifting,  drifting  always 
away  from  her;  soon  she  would  leave  his 
life  for  ever.  He  laughed  at  the  thought. 
Why  struggle  against  hope?  Each  succeed 
ing  day  bore  him  further  from  Violet.  He 
knew  it,  and  he  was  powerless  to  prevent. 
He  loved  with  a  mighty  love,  a  love  so 
overpowering  that  the  very  thought  of  ex 
pressing  it  in  words  drove  him  to  despair. 
He  wondered  how  other  men  who  had  won 
the  hearts  of  women  had  acted.  But  other 
men  had  never  loved  as  he  loved. 

"I  did  n't  mean  to  be  so  cross  to  you," 
said  Violet,  looking  up  and  meeting  his  dis 
tressed  glance;  "but  I  am  very  fond  of  you, 
Jack,  and  it  pains  me  to  see  you  becoming 
so  moody." 

"Very  fond,"  he  cried;  "if  you  only 
knew  how  those  words  hurt  me." 

"Why,  Jack,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"It  's  all  over,  Violet,"  he  said  despond 
ently;  "it  's  all  over.  I  knew  it  could  not 
last." 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?" 

Hardy  stood  before  the  fire.  His  riding 
crop  was  clinched  tightly  in  his  hands.  His 


86  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

eyes  glared  vacantly,  and  his  words  seemed 
spoken  to  some  one  else,  some  one  at  a  dis 
tance.  "You  have  been  kind  to  me,  Vio 
let,"  he  said,  "very  kind.  I  am  grateful 
for  your  friendship ;  I  am  grateful  for  the 
few  years  I  have  known  you.  When  I  am 
gone  I  shall — " 

"When  you  are  gone,  Jack?"  cried 
Violet. 

"Yes,  Violet,  I  am  going  back  to  the 
frontier.  You  remember  you  told  me  a 
one-company  post  was  the  place  for  me." 

"But,  Jack,  I  was  not  in  earnest.  I  was 
only  joking." 

Her  eyes  met  his  eyes.  She  knew  then 
what  before  she  had  only  suspected.  She 
turned  away;  she  could  not  bear  to  look 
into  his  pale,  desperate  face. 

"Shall  I  go,  Violet?"  he  said.  "You 
know  why  I  am  going." 

"Yes,  Jack,  I  know.  Perhaps  it  is  for 
the  best." 

He  gazed  into  the  fire  silently.  He  won 
dered  why  he  had  feared  to  learn  the  truth. 
Now  that  it  was  over  he  felt  braver.  He 
turned  suddenly  and  looked  at  Violet. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  87 

"Don't,  Violet,"  he  said  almost  cheer 
fully.  "Don't  mind  me,  it  is  a  soldier's 
business  to  adapt  himself  to  circumstances. 
I  shall  be  all  right.  Believe  me  I  shall." 

Violet  seized  his  hand  and  held  it  tightly 
against  her  heart  with  both  her  own.  "For 
give  me,  Jack,"  she  cried  impulsively;  "I 
have  tried  to  care  for  you.  I  do  care  for 
you,  more  than  for  any  man,  but  not  as 
you  would  wish  me  to  care.  You  under 
stand,  do  n't  you,  Jack?" 

Hardy  smiled  hopelessly.  "Yes,  Violet, 
I  understand." 

"And  you  forgive  me?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  I  am  very 
grateful  because  you  have  let  me  be  your 
friend  so  long." 

Violet  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"Forget  me,  Jack,"  she  said;  "think  of 
me  as  I  really  am.  You  do  n't  know  what 
a  vain,  selfish  thing  I  am." 

She  tried  to  smile  but  her  eyes  met  his 
again. 

"I  am  not  worthy  of  you,  Jack,  believe 
me  I  am  not,"  she  said.  "Promise  me  you 
will  forget  me." 

He  turned  away  from  her  and  gazed  into 


88  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

the  fire.  "I  cannot  make  a  promise  I  could 
not  keep,"  he  answered  slowly.  "I  shall 
love  you  always.  Shall  we  go  now?  It  is 
getting  late,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 

Violet  left  her  seat  before  the  fire. 
Hardy  picked  up  a  glove  she  had  let  fall 
and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Jack,"  she  said,  taking  his  hand; 
"please  do  not  go  away.  Can  't  we  be  the 
same  old  friends  we  have  always  been?" 

"It  is  better  that  I  should  go.  Besides  I 
should  be  only  a  friend.  There  might  be 
some  one  else — "  he  hesitated  a  moment. 
"Is  there  some  one  else,  Violet?  I  should 
like  to  know." 

"No,  Jack,  there  is  no  one  else."  There 
was  a  thought  in  her  mind  which  troubled 
her,  but  it  was  merely  a  thought.  It  van 
ished  as  it  came. 

"I  am  thankful  for  that,  Violet.  I  have 
had  a  fear  lately,  a  foolish  fear.  I  wanted 
the  man  you  loved  to  be  worthy  of  you ; 
that  was  all." 

Violet  stopped  suddenly.  She  turned 
toward  him  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 
"I  wish  I  could  love  you,"  she  said,  "love 
you  as  you  deserve  to  be  loved." 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS  89 

"Love  begins  with  love,"  he  said  bit 
terly. 

Violet  smiled.  "You  see  the  truth  of  my 
words,  do  n't  you,  Jack?  Try  and  believe, 
too,  that  friendship  is  more  durable  than 
love." 

Hardy  laughed.  "As  well  tell  a  man 
with  a  copper  cent  that  it  is  more  durable 
than  a  gold  dollar." 

"Come,  Jack,  be  sensible;  we  can  be  the 
same  old  friends." 

"Friends,  yes,"  he  said  thoughtfully, 
"but  never  the  same  old  friends.  Your 
friendship  will  be  pity  now,  and  mine — well 
to  call  it  friendship  is  merely  begging  the 
question." 

The  dying  firelight  flickered.  A  mourn 
ful  gust  from  the  night  outside  swept  over 
the  glowing  embers.  Slowly  they  walked 
toward  the  door. 

Violet  stopped  on  the  threshold,  and 
turning  toward  him,  said:  "Perhaps  I  am 
not  like  other  women,  Jack.  I  am  colder, 
more  unimpressionable.  I  think  I  care  for 
you  more  than  I  care  for  any  man,  more 
than  I  have  ever  cared.  I  will  marry  you 
if  you  wish." 


9° 

He  kissed  her,  then  for  a  moment  he  held 
her  in  his  arms  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 
"I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul,"  he  cried; 
"I  would  die  for  you,  but  I  could  not 
marry  you,  Violet — not  when  you  look  at 
me  like  that." 

"Perhaps  it  is  better  that  you  should  go, 
Jack,"  she  said  thoughtfully;  "better  for 
you  at  least." 

He  did  not  reply.  He  was  trying  to 
realise  the  change  which  had  come  over  his 
life. 


VII 

"EPICUREAN  COOKS  SHARPEN  WITH 

CLOYLESS  SAUCE  HIS  APPETITE." 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  II.  I. 

Mrs.  Rivers'  cook  was  unable  to  fulfill 
expectations.  Komlossy  had  gone  so  far 
as  to  pronounce  her  divine,  but  she  proved 
her  fallibility  when  it  came  to  the  chicken 
souffle.  It  was  soggy.  The  consequence 
was  that  the  little  Magyar  remained  ill-hu 
mored  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 
Besides  he  was  next  his  hostess,  and  could 
not  express  his  indignation.  Ill  fortune  is 
proverbially  gregarious,  and  on  this  occa 
sion  his  other  neighbor  was  Mrs.  "  Senator  " 
Smith.  No  diplomat,  however  skilled, 
could  retain  his  serenity  under  such  circum 
stances. 

Since  the  success  of  her  dance  Mrs. 
Smith  had  grown  garrulous.  Her  social 
footing  was  more  secure,  and  having  tasted 
the  sweets  of  triumph,  she  felt  an  exultation 
it  was  impossible  to  restrain.  With  true 
91 


92  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

maternal  pride  her  laudation  took  the  form 
of  Phoebe. 

"Phoebe  ought  to  make  a  brilliant  mar 
riage,  don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Minister?" 
she  said  to  the  Hungarian,  giving  at  the 
same  time  a  glance  of  pride  across  the  table 
toward  her  daughter,  who  was  sitting  be 
tween  Count  Joam  de  Albuquerque  and 
Ritchie  Maitland. 

Komlossy,  noticing  that  both  men  were 
earnestly  talking  in  the  other  direction, 
merely  gave  an  assenting  grunt. 

"You  must  admit  that  Phoebe  has  every 
advantage,"  she  continued.  "Social  posi 
tion,  wealth,  and,  if  I  do  say  it,  she  is  above 
the  average  in  looks." 

"You  have  stated  the  case  mildly,  Mrs. 
Smith.  I  should  say  she  had  every  advan 
tage." 

' '  I  am  glad  you  agree  with  me.  I  am 
thinking  seriously  of  taking  Phoebe  abroad 
in  the  spring." 

"Indeed,  Mrs.  Smith.  Is  her  health 
poor?"  said  the  little  man  with  a  show  of 
surprise. 

"No,"  replied  Mrs.  Smith  emphatically; 
"but  the  advantages  of  Washington  are  so 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  93 

limited,  society  is  so  restricted,  a  girl  has 
no  opportunities.  There  are  no  marrying 
men  here." 

"I  could  name  a  dozen  who  would  jump 
at  the  chance  of  marrying  such  a — such  a 
prominent  girl  as  your  daughter." 

"Of  course  Phoebe  could  marry  any 
one  in  Washington,"  said  Mrs.  Smith, 
proudly,  "but  what  are  the  men  here? 
merely  impecunious  officers  and  department 
clerks." 

"There  are  a  few  stray  diplomats,  Mrs. 
Smith,  Albuquerque  for  instance." 

Mrs.  Smith  looked  at  the  minister  resent 
fully.  "Nonsense,  Albuquerque  is  only 
half-witted." 

"A  commendable  quality  in  a  husband." 

"Now  really,  Mr.  Minister,  be  serious.  I 
should  like  your  advice,  you  are  a  man  of 
so  much  experience — whom  would  you  sug 
gest  ?' ' 

Komlossy  was  vexed.  What  had  he  to 
do  with  choosing  a  husband  for  Phoebe 
Smith  ?  She  might  marry  a  cab-driver  for 
all  he  cared — the  mouse-like,  little  upstart. 
He  glanced  across  the  table,  a  tall  footman 
was  standing  behind  Maitland's  chair.  He 


94  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

was  on  the  point  of  suggesting  the  foot 
man,  but  he  restrained  himself. 

"Why  need  you  seek  further  than  Ritchie 
Maitland,"  he  said  with  an  inward  chuckle, 
"he  is  handsome,  cultivated,  a  man  of  the 
world,  in  every  sense  a  desirable  parti.  He 
is  poor  to  be  sure,  but  his  social  standing  is 
unexcelled,  and  he  has  had  experience  of 
the  world  which  should  prove  invaluable  in 
a  husband.  Why  do  n't  you  have  Miss 
Phoebe  set  her  cap  for  him?" 

Mrs.  Smith  cast  a  longing  glance  at  Mait 
land. 

"She  would  have  a  rival  to  be  sure  in 
Violet  Duncan,"  continued  Komlossy, 
"but  your  daughter  has  every  advantage  of 
wealth,  social  position,  and  I  might  safely 
add — beauty." 

Mrs.  Rivers  had  made  the  sign  to  leave 
the  table. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Smith  hurriedly; 
"I  feel  that  you - have  been  a  real  friend. 
Won't  you  come  and  see  me  soon;  we 
might  have  another  delightful  talk?" 

Komlossy  bowed  perfunctorily,  then 
offering  his  arm  to  the  hostess  he  walked 
out  of  the  dining-room,  thinking  inwardly 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS  95 

that  there  is  no  fool  like  a  silly  old  woman. 
In  the  drawing-room  he  found  himself  near 
Mrs.  Cortland.  He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  see  that  cowboy  soldier  has  got  up  to 
the  speaking  point  and  has  been  refused," 
Komlossy  said  to  Mrs.  Cortland  with  a 
slight  accent  of  triumph. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"He  has  gone  to  join  his  regiment." 

"That  proves  nothing." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Cortland,  I  have  private 
information  from  the  war  department  that 
Lieutenant  Hardy  joined  his  regiment  at 
his  own  request." 

"He  is  a  thorough  soldier,"  said  Mrs. 
Cortland  vaguely;  "the  life  here  is  too  lazy 
for  him." 

"Bah,"  said  Komlossy,  "no  soldier  ever 
left  Washington  at  his  own  request  unless 
there  was  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"If  there  were  no  women  in  the  world 
you  men  would  have  no  excuse  for  your 
evil  deeds." 

"We  would  have  no  evil  deeds  to  ex 
cuse." 

Mrs.  Cortland  directed  her  eye-glass  at 
the  minister. 


96  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"You  must  have  been  disappointed  in 
your  dinner,  Komlossy." 

"Yes,  the  souffle  was  soggy.  If  there  is 
one  test  of  a  good  cook  it  is  a  souffle,  and 
to  think  that  only  last  week  I  was  uphold 
ing  the  cook  of  this  establishment  as  a  veri 
table  cordon  bleu." 

"Run  away,  Komlossy,  and  have  your 
smoke;  you  will  be  less  disagreeable  then," 
said  Mrs.  Cortland,  turning  her  back  on  him. 

The  minister  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Then  he  wandered  towards  the  smoking- 
room. 

Mrs.  Cortland  walked  across  the  room  to 
where  Violet  was  sitting. 

"I  hear  Mr.  Hardy  has  left  Washing 
ton,"  she  said,  taking  the  seat  beside  her. 

"Yes,  he  has  gone  back  to  his  regi 
ment." 

' '  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that ;  he  was  a  great 
favorite  of  mine." 

"He  is  too  quiet  in  his  tastes  for  Wash 
ington;  he  does  not  care  for  society." 

"But  he  is  such  a  manly  young  fellow, 
so  straightforward  and  nice.  Do  you 
know,  I  rather  hoped  you  might  fall  in  love 
with  him,  Violet." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS  97 

"I!  Mrs.  Cortland,"  said  Violet  with  an 
expression  of  astonishment.  ''Why  I  have 
known  Jack  Hardy  always,  at  least  ever 
since  I  was  a  child." 

"You  must  believe  in  love  at  first  sight." 

"I  do." 

"In  most  cases  I  should  advise  a  second 
sight,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland  dryly;  "a  girl 
can  't  know  a  man  too  well;  that  is  if  she 
intends  to  marry  him." 

"But  surely,  Mrs.  Cortland,  a  girl  should 
love  the  man  she  intends  to  marry." 

"Certainly,  my  dear;  but  there  is  a  vast 
difference  between  a  cozy  hearth  fire  and 
pyrotechnics." 

Mrs.  Cortland  saw  a  decided  expression 
of  animation  in  Violet's  eyes.  She  turned 
around.  Ritchie  Maitland  had  just  entered 
the  room. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  would  do  if  I  were 
you,  Violet?" 

"What,  pray?" 

"Throw  away  all  your  French  novels  and 
read  Fenimore  Cooper,  or  Captain  Charles 
King,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  stultify  my  mind?" 

"No,  but  you  might  cultivate  a  taste  for 


98  THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

nature's  noblemen.  There  is  some  differ 
ence  between  a  blunt,  straightforward  hero 
and  a  Casal  for  instance." 

Violet  shuddered.  She  remembered  the 
day  when  she  had  been  reading  "Un  Cceur 
de  Femme, "  and  thinking  of  Maitland.  "A 
magnetic  creature,  whose  power  lay  in  his 
boldness,  who  was  selfish  even  in  love." 
That  was  her  thought  then.  Had  it 
changed?  she  wondered. 

" Really,  Mrs.  Cortland,"  she  said,  "I 
must  confess  that  I  should  prefer  a  Casal  to 
a  Leather  Stocking,  for  a  husband  at  least." 

"That  is  the  way  with  you  girls.  You 
judge  a  man  by  his  accomplishments,  not 
by  what  he  has  accomplished." 

Maitland  wandered  towards  them.  "I 
thought  I  would  come  over  here, ' '  he  said, 
"and  let  Mrs.  Cortland  slang  me,  she  seems 
to  enjoy  it  so." 

"Not  so  much  as  you  fancy,"  said  Mrs. 
Cortland,  "you  are  too  vulnerable,  I  prefer 
to  attack  an  Achilles." 

"Whom  you  can  only  hit  when  he  is  run 
ning  away.  I  receive  your  shafts  more 
boldly  than  that." 

"Mrs.  Cortland   never  says  behind  your 


THE    VICE   OF  FOOLS  99 

back  what  she  would  not  say  before  you," 
interrupted  Violet. 

"I  can  readily  believe  that.  To  my  face 
she  tells  me  I  am  an  all-around  scoundrel. 
I  do  n't  know  that  she  could  say  anything 
worse  of  me." 

"I  was  telling  Miss  Duncan,"  said  Mrs. 
Cortland,  rising  from  her  chair,  "that  you 
were  like  the  conventional  hero  of  a  French 
novel.  Sit  down  here  and  refute  the  asper 
sion — that  is  if  you  can,  which  I  very  much 
doubt." 

"Do  you  know,  I  am  beginning  to  like 
your  friend,"  said  Maitland,  glancing  after 
her  as  she  walked  away." 

"Because  she  tells  you  the  truth?" 

"Do  you  think  she  tells  the  truth  about 
me?"  said  Maitland  quickly. 

"She  merely  tells  me  what  others  do, 
that  you  are  very  designing  and  very 
selfish." 

"And  you  believe  it?"  he  asked  earn 
estly. 

"  I  neither  believe  nor  disbelieve.  How 
can  a  girl  know  much  of  a  man  she  meets 
casually  in  society,  until  he  does  something 
to  prove  or  disprove  what  is  said  of  him?" 


TOO         THE  VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"When  a  man  is  reticent  because  but  few 
people  interest  him,  he  is  cold  and  selfish ; 
when  he  tries  to  succeed  in  what  he  has  un 
dertaken  he  is  designing;  such  is  the  judg 
ment  of  the  world,"  Maitland  said  bitterly. 

Violet  was  thoughtful  a  moment.  "I 
think  reticent  people  are  apt  to  be  either 
bitter  or  selfish,"  she  said  finally;  ''but 
sometimes  they  are  merely  indifferent." 

"Then  you  agree  with  the  world?" 

"No;  as  I  said  before,  my  belief  as  re 
gards  you  is  agnostic.  I  doubt  because  I 
do  not  know." 

Maitland  leaned  towards  Violet.  "Miss 
Duncan,"  he  said,  "I  am  indifferent.  Peo 
ple  bore  me.  That  is  most  people.  But 
you  are  different.  You  are  such  a  thor 
oughly  good  fellow;  I  wish  you  would  be 
my  friend.  I  hope  that  is  not  too  abrupt  a 
way  of  asking." 

Violet  laughed.  "Why  did  n't  you  say 
I  was  an  adorable,  heavenly  creature?"  she 
asked. 

"Because  I  am  very  serious.  I  really 
wish  your  friendship." 

"I  do  n't  believe  much  in  friendship  be 
tween  men  and  women,"  she  answered 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          101 

thoughtfully.  "I  once  had  a  friend  of 
whom  I  was  very  fond,  but  he  ended  by 
falling  in  love  with  me." 

Maitland  smiled.  "I  could  not  accept 
friendship,"  he  said,  "if  that  were  pro 
hibited  in  the  contract." 

"And  I  would  not  grant  friendship  on 
any  other  terms." 

"Don't  compel  me  to  throw  aside  the 
mask  of  friendship.  It  conceals — " 

"Your  egotism,"  interrupted  Violet. 
"Men  like  to  make  friends.  It  amuses 
them  to  have  some  one  who  will  confide 
secrets  to  them,  some  one  to  whom  they  can 
tell  just  as  much  or  just  as  little  as  they 
please." 

"Is  that  the  way  this  other  friend  did? 
Because  one  man  is  false — " 

"The  other  friend  was  true  as  steel." 
Violet  interrupted,  "never  in  my  whole 
life  have  I  doubted  him." 

"And  why  do  you  doubt  me?" 

"Because  you  never  talk  as  though  you 
were  in  earnest." 

"Such  is  the  reward  of  truthfulness,"  he 
said  with  a  sigh.  "What  is  there  that  is 
underhand  about  me?" 


102          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"No  one  seems  to  understand  you." 

He  laughed.  "I  should  not  think  that 
would  be  difficult.  I  have  spent  ten  years 
of  my  life  in  the  government  service.  Two 
years  ago  I  was  retired.  I  am  fitted  for 
nothing  else.  There  is  a  vacancy  in  the 
diplomatic  service.  I  am  here  to  try  my 
luck.  It  is  very  simple,  is  it  not?" 

' '  I  am  surprised  you  have  never  asked  me 
to  help  you."  Violet  looked  at  him  quiz 
zically.  She  was  thinking  that  he  would 
not  be  the  first  man  to  use  his  attentions  to 
her  as  a  means  to  obtain  political  prefer 
ment. 

"Again  you  misjudge  me,"  Maitland  said 
humbly.  "I  confess  that  when  I  first  met 
you  the  thought  came  to  me  that  your 
father's  influence  would  be  most  valuable; 
but  it  was  only  a  thought,  which  vanished 
when  I  knew  you  better." 

"I  should  think  that  now  you  know  me 
it  would  be  very  easy  to  ask  my  assistance. 
In  fact  I  should  be  only  too  pleased  to 
speak  to  my  father." 

Maitland  met  her  glance.  "Please,  Miss 
Duncan,"  he  said  anxiously,  "do  not  speak 
to  your  father." 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          103 

"And  why  not,  if  I  wish  to  help  you?" 

"Because,"  he  replied,  lowering  his 
voice,  "I  wish  you  to  believe  in  me.  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  think  of  me  in  the  light  of 
an  office-seeker." 

"I  thought  you  wished  my  friendship. 
How  could  I  show  it  better?" 

"Miss  Duncan,"  he  said  earnestly,  "I 
only  mentioned  my  aspiration  because  you 
doubted  my  sincerity.  Whether  I  get  the 
London  secretaryship  matters  little,  but  the 
loss  of  your  esteem  matters  much  to  me." 

Violet  smiled.  "What  has  that  to  do 
with  the  loss  of  my  esteem?"  she  asked. 

Maitland  looked  into  her  eyes.  "You 
know  you  could  not  respect  me  if  my 
friendship  had  an  ulterior  motive.  Come, 
be  frank,  could  you?" 

"No,  I  could  not,"  she  said. 

"Then  promise  me  you  will  not  refer  to 
this  matter  again." 

"That  is  accepting  the  gage  of  friendship, 
is  it  not?" 

"It  is,"  he  said. 

"Then  I  accept,"  she  answered.  "I  be 
gan  to  like  you  at  Mrs.  Smith's  dance.  I 
begin  to  respect  you  now." 


104         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"I  crave  even  more  than  that,"  he  said 
almost  tenderly. 

"Don't  make  me  think  you  a  glutton 
now  that  I  am  just  beginning  to  like  you." 

"Ah,  but  you  began  that  last  week;  the 
next  beginning  must  be — " 

"The  end,"  said  Violet  quickly. 

"The  end  of  friendship,  yes,"  he  an 
swered  rising  from  his  seat  to  make  way  for 
General  Lloyd,  who  had  just  approached. 

"Oh,  these  diplomats,  Miss  Duncan," 
said  General  Lloyd,  glancing  at  Maitland, 
"their  tongues  are  well  oiled,  but  they  mean 
nothing.  Beware  of  them." 

"But  unlike  some  general's  swords  their 
tongues  are  sharp  and  they  use  them,"  Vio 
let  replied. 

"Really,  Miss  Duncan,  I  protest." 

"A  general  commands,  a  diplomat  merely 
executes  the  commands  of  others.  He  is 
only  a  high  private,"  said  Maitland,  seizing 
this  opportunity  of  leaving  the  general  in 
full  possession  of  the  field. 

"Private,"  replied  General  Lloyd  too 
low  to  be  heard  by  Maitland.  "Spy." 

"Why  do  you  dislike  Mr.  Maitland  so?" 
asked  Violet. 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          105 

"I  dislike  any  one  who  claims  a  large 
share  of  your  society." 

"Then  you  must  dislike  yourself  exceed 
ingly,"  laughed  Violet.  "I  know  of  no 
one  to  whom  I  have  devoted  myself  more 
during  the  past  fortnight.  Even  now  I 
permit  you  to  interrupt  a  very  interesting 
conversation  with  a  very  interesting  man." 

"Still  thinking  of  that  diplomat.  One 
could  understand  it  if  he  were  still  in 
office,"  answered  General  Lloyd,  taking  the 
seat  vacated  by  Maitland. 

"I  am  thinking  of  him  because  I  wish 
you  to  think  of  him.  I  wish  to  interest 
you  in  his  behalf." 

"So  he  has  been  asking  you  to  help  him. 
I  thought  that  was  his  game." 

"On  the  contrary  he  has  not  asked  me," 
said  Violet  indignantly.  "That  is  why  I 
wish  to  help  him." 

The  general  frowned.  "He  made  him 
self  very  unpopular  with  Americans  in  Paris. 
He  was  too  good  for  his  own  countrymen." 

"I  can  quite  understand  that,"  said  Vio 
let,  "judging  by  the  majority  of  Americans 
one  meets  on  the  continent.  He  certainly 
would  make  a  better  impression  in  Europe 


106          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

than  the  backwoods  politicians  we  usually 
send." 

"Mr.  Maitland  is  from  Delaware.  There 
is  a  candidate  from  my  own  state,  a  young 
New  Yorker,  whose  father  is  prominent  in 
politics.  He  naturally  expects  my  backing. ' ' 

"But  I  wish  your  support." 

"My  support;  you  over-value  it,"  said 
the  General  deprecatingly.  "All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  ask  your  father  and  the  thing  is 
done." 

"Not  if  you  oppose  it.  You  know  the 
President  is  already  seeking  renomination, 
and  he  wishes  New  York  state  votes  in  the 
convention." 

"What  a  politician  you  are.  You  ought 
not  to  throw  yourself  away  on  secretaries, 
you  ought  to  marry  a  leader." 

"General  Lloyd,"  said  Violet  resent 
fully,  "I  was  not  aware  that  my  marriage 
was  the  subject  under  discussion." 

"Pardon  me,"  replied  the  General  coldly, 
"we  were  talking  politics." 

"No,  appointments." 

"That  is  all  there  is  to  politics." 

"There  are  obstructionists,  are  there 
not?"  asked  Violet. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          107 

"Yes,  and  neutrals,"  the  General  said 
suavely.  "In  this  instance  I  recognize  the 
rights  of  both  belligerents,  and  declare  neu 
trality." 

"Then  that  is  your  ultimatum,  is  it,  Gen 
eral?" 

"It  is." 

"Remember  I  shall  hold  you  to  your 
pledge,"  said  Violet,  rising  from  her  seat. 
"Do  not  let  this  young  man  from  New 
York  draw  you  into  the  fight." 

The  General  bowed.  "You  might  draw 
me  into  the  fight  yourself  if  you  would." 

"Would  what." 

"Smile  upon  me  a  little  more  favorably." 

"Here  is  an  opportunity  to  give  me 
cause." 

"An  opportunity  for  me  to  pull  chestnuts 
out  of  the  fire,"  said  the  General,  with  a 
frown. 

Violet  looked  at  him  resentfully.  Then 
she  turned  and  walked  away  without  reply 
ing. 

The  General  glanced  after  her  admiringly. 

"What  a  wife  she  would  make  for  an  am 
bitious  man,  General,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland 
at  his  elbow. 


io8         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Mrs.  Cortland,  an  ambitious  man  should 
be  a  bachelor,  then  he  can  rise  by  flirting 
with  the  wives  of  the  men  in  power." 

"It  is  less  circuitous  to  have  a  wife  who 
flirts  with  the  men  in  power." 

"My  wife  would  flirt  with  no  man,"  said 
the  General  doggedly. 

"How  would  you  prevent  it?" 

"By  killing  the  man." 

"Mercy!  what  a  fire-eater. " 

General  Lloyd  walked  away.  He  was 
distinctly  annoyed. 


'THH   WEATHER    HERE    IS    L1KK    AN    AMERICAN   WOMAN'S  TEMl'EKAMENT." 


VIII 

"FOR   POLICY   SITS   ABOVE   CONSCIENCE." 
Timon  of  Athens,  IIL  2. 

Komlossy  stopped  on  the  steps  of  Mrs. 
Rivers'  house  to  turn  up  the  collar  of  his 
overcoat.  A  north  wind  was  blowing,  and 
the  cold  air  penetrated  to  his  thinly  covered 
bones. 

"The  weather  here  is  like  an  American 
woman's  temperament,"  he  said  with  a 
shiver,  "bright  and  fascinating  until  you 
discover  how  cold  it  is." 

"When  a  woman  is  coM,"  said  Maitland, 
"there  is  some  satisfaction  in  thawing  out 
her  heart." 

"Umph!"  grunted  the  little  diplomat; 
"and  what  do  you  get  for  your  trouble? 
The  privilege  of  sitting  by  the  fire  on  rainy 
days  and  talking  about  poetry,  or  holding 
her  fan  while  she  dances  with  the  latest 
recruit  for  her  troop  of  best  young  men. 
In  Europe  a  lover  is  a  conqueror  who  drags 
a  willing  captive  at  his  chariot  wheels;  in 
109 


no          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

America  he  is  a  tame  pussy-cat  who  is 
allowed  to  purr  at  convenient  moments.  In 
Europe  a  woman  would  die  twenty  times 
for  the  man  she  loves;  in  America  she 
might  die  if  she  were  not  loved  by  twenty 
men  at  the  same  time." 

Maitland  felt  too  cold  to  argue  the  point, 
so  the  two  men  sauntered  along  in  silence. 
It  was  but  a  step  to  the  club  and  both  had 
visions  of  a  cosy  corner  by  the  fire. 

When  they  had  reached  that  land  of  their 
heart's  desire  and  were  comfortably  toast 
ing  their  toes  on  the  fender  in  the  smok 
ing-room,  Maitland  turned  to  Komlossy  and 
asked  him  if  he  really  thought  American 
women  inferior  to  their  European  sisters. 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all!"  expostulated 
Komlossy.  "If  I  wanted  to  be  amused  I 
should  go  to  Paris;  if  I  wanted  to  be  mar 
ried  I  should  go  to  New  York. ' ' 

"A  tribute  to  mediocrity?" 

"No,  to  intelligence.  Love  a  woman 
with  an  intellect  if  you  want  to  be  wretched ; 
marry  one  if  you  want  to  be  successful. 
The  greatness  of  many  a  man  is  merely  the 
possession  of  a  clever  wife.  And  by  the 
way  Maitland,  that  reminds  me  that  I  have 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          in 

been  arranging  a  marriage  for  you  this  even 
ing." 

"Forme!"  exclaimed  the  younger  man. 

"Yes,  it  is  quite  settled.  Mamma  is  will- 
ing." 

"Oh,  really,  then  I  am  not  to  be  con 
sulted." 

"No,  merely  advised.  I  rely  entirely 
upon  your  judgment.  You  cannot  fail  to 
see  the  material  advantages  of  the  union  I 
propose. ' ' 

"I  think  the  negotiations  have  arrived  at 
a  stage  when  at  least  the  name  of  the  pros 
pective  bride  should  be  confided  to  me," 
said  Maitland. 

"Nothing  easier,"  chuckled  Komlossy. 
"Phoebe  Smith." 

"Heavens!"   ejaculated  Maitland. 

"Leave  off  the  's'  and  call  it  Heaven. 
What  could  be  better  than  an  heiress  to  mil 
lions?" 

"A  woman  with  an  intellect,  to  quote 
your  own  words.  Marry  one  if  you  want 
to  be  successful." 

"Bah,  that"  is  if  you  have  millions 
already ;  but  a  clever  pauper  like  yourself 
needs  money,  not  brains." 


ii2         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"True." 

"Well,  think  it  over.  I  have  made  the 
preliminary  arrangements;  mamma  is  will 
ing,  even  anxious  I  might  say." 

"See  here,  Komlossy,  you  are  making 
game  of  me,  and  I  won't  have  it,"  said 
Maitland  resentfully. 

"That  is  ingratitude,  base  ingratitude; 
you  know  my  selection  is  a  good  one — for 
you  at  least.  As  for  the  girl,  I  confess  it 
took  a  great  stretch  of  conscience  for  me  to 
advise  a  union  with  such  a  thorough  rake  as 
you." 

"A  rake  makes  the  best  of  husbands,  he 
has  had  so  many  opportunities  for  studying 
the  r61e." 

"Exactly.  That  is  why  you  should 
marry  Phoebe  Smith ;  you  have  experience, 
she  has  money ;  you  will  get  the  money  and 
she  the  experience — not  a  bad  exchange  as 
the  world  goes." 

Maitland  did  not  reply.  He  was  thinking. 
Not  about  Phoebe  Smith  and  her  millions, 
but  about  other  schemes  he  had  in  mind. 
He  was  thinking  about  Violet  Duncan  and 
the  part  he  was  playing. 

"That  's  right,  think  it  over,"  said  Kom- 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          113 

lossy  rising  from  his  seat.  "I  am  going  to 
play  piquet  with  Brankovan." 

Maitland  gave  an  assenting  grunt.  Then 
he  ordered  a  drink,  and  sat  gazing  into  the 
fire.  Yes,  he  had  played  his  cards  well,  he 
thought.  The  Secretary  of  State  was 
favorable,  at  least  he  had  no  candidate  of 
his  own.  The  senators  from  Delaware  had 
both  made  a  personal  fight  in  his  behalf, 
and  there  was  no  one  from  Delaware  at 
present  in  the  service.  All  that  was  needed 
was  strong  personal  influence  with  the 
President.  General  Lloyd  was  thought  by 
many  to  be  the  power  behind  the  throne, 
but  General  Lloyd  was  out  of  the  question ; 
he  had  taken  a  distinct  dislike  to  Maitland 
which  he  was  at  no  trouble  to  conceal.  In 
the  cabinet  the  influence  of  Secretary  Dun 
can  was  paramount.  He  had  won  that  in 
fluence. 

Violet  would  help  him.  He  smiled  when 
he  thought  of  the  diplomatic  way  in  which 
he  had  secured  her  support.  He  was  clever, 
he  thought;  he  had  known  just  how  far  to 
go,  and  now  of  her  own  volition  she  had 
enlisted  in  his  cause.  Well,  it  was  all  in 
the  game.  Violet  was  attractive,  he  con- 


ii4          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

fessed  that,  but  she  was  too  sincere  to  un 
derstand  the  world  thoroughly.  If  he  were 
in  a  position  to  marry  he  would  marry  just 
such  a  girl  as  Violet — he  would  marry  Vio 
let.  Marry!  and  not  a  penny  between 
them.  He  laughed  at  the  thought.  But 
Violet  was  not  like  other  women  he  had 
known;  it  seemed  cruel  to  win  her  confi 
dence,  possibly  her  love,  for  his  own  ends. 
But  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war,  he  thought, 
and  this  was  a  game  of  war  as  well  as  love. 
When  he  had  received  his  appointment  it 
would  be  time  to  think  of  such  matters — 
meanwhile,  Violet  was  his  strongest  card, 
and  to  retain  that  card  he  was  prepared  to 
go  even  to  the  extent  of  making  love  in 
earnest.  At  least  it  would  be  in  earnest 
until  his  appointment  was  confirmed  by  the 
senate — and  then — well,  sufficient  unto  the 
day  was  the  evil  thereof. 

Ritchie  Maitland  felt  very  well  satisfied 
with  himself.  He  sipped  his  whisky  and 
soda  and  watched  the  firelight,  then  he  fell 
to  thinking  of  his  conversation  with  Kom- 
lossy.  The  little  Hungarian  was  never  to 
be  taken  seriously — but  Phoebe  Smith — 
well  a  man  in  his  position  might  do  worse, 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          115 

a  man  with  expensive  tastes  and  an  income 
of  only  three  thousand  a  year. 

"Hello,  Maitland!  You're  the  very 
chap  I  'm  looking  for." 

Maitland  glanced  up.  The  speaker  was 
Albert  Way,  private  secretary  of  the  Secre 
tary  of  State — ' '  Bertie  Way  ' '  as  everybody 
called  him — an  old  friend  of  Maitland's 
who  had  the  faculty  of  knowing  or  sus 
pecting  everything  that  the  powers  above 
were  doing,  and  thus  was  invaluable  as  a 
partisan. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Bertie?"  said  Mait 
land,  touching  the  bell  by  his  side,  for  he 
knew  the  circumstances  under  which  Ber 
tie's  tongue  wagged  most  freely. 

"You  've  got  to  get  a  move  on,"  replied 
the  state  department  functionary,  dropping 
between  the  arms  of  a  leather-covered 
chair. 

"Why,  what  's  up?"  exclaimed  Mait 
land. 

"What  's  up?  Why  Lloyd  is  not  only 
against  us  but  he  's  got  a  candidate  of  his 
own." 

"The  devil  you  say." 

"Yes,  Lloyd  's  gunning  for  you." 


n6         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"But  who  's  his  man?"  asked  Maitland 
anxiously. 

"Rye  and  carbonic  for  me."  The  serv 
ant  had  appeared ;  Bertie  could  conceive  of 
nothing  more  important  than  the  com 
manding  of  his  tipple,  so  Maitland  was  left 
in  expectancy  until  the  man  had  departed 
to  execute  the  order. 

"Well,  it  's  this  way.  Lloyd  is  after 
your  scalp,  and  when  he  found  you  had 
almost  a  cinch  on  this  London  business,  he 
went  and  trotted  out  young  Bill  Whiting, 
the  strongest  man  he  could  find." 

"What,  the  son  of  Bill  Whiting,  of  New 
York,  the  man  who  puts  up  millions  in 
every  campaign?" 

"Exactly." 

"Why,  I  thought  he  and  Lloyd  were 
rivals." 

"That's  where  the  fun  comes  in," 
chuckled  Bertie.  "You  know  the  Presi 
dent  wants  to  conciliate  the  factions  in  New 
York,  so  when  General  Lloyd  comes  out  for 
Bill  Whiting's  son,  I  do  n't  believe  he  '11 
dare  refuse;  it  's  too  powerful  a  combina 
tion  to  break." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          117 

Maitland  drained  his  glass.  "But  there 
must  be  some  way  out  of  it,  Bertie." 

"There  is  only  one  way;  get  Duncan  to 
take  his  coat  off.  There  is  a  chance  there 
at  least  to  hold  the  thing  up  until  you  can 
rally  all  your  forces.  If  you  do  n't,  Whit 
ing's  name  will  go  to  the  Senate  before  you 
are  three  days  older." 

"But  what  can  Duncan  do?" 

"Why  he  and  my  chief  are  as  thick  as 
two  peas  in  a  pod.  Get  Duncan  and 
you  've  corralled  the  Secretary  of  State.  As 
for  the  President  he  never  moves  without 
consulting  them.  The  rest  of  those  cabinet 
chumps  are  n't  in  it  for  a  minute." 

"I  can  't  conceive  why  General  Lloyd 
should  have  it  in  for  me,"  said  Maitland 
thoughtfully. 

"No  more  can  I  unless  you  have  cut  him 
out  with  some  woman.  The  old  boy  is  a 
terror  after  women." 

"Mrs.  Cortland!  No  that  can  't  be,  she 
is  down  on  me,  too,"  mused  Maitland. 

"Mrs.  Cortland — not  for  one  sweet  min 
ute,"  laughed  Bertie.  ''She  's  onto  the 
General's  curves." 


n8          THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"Well,  it  's  too  deep  for  me,"  said  Mait- 
land.  "But  if  Duncan  is  the  only  chance, 
Duncan  it  must  be." 

"But  can  you  get  him?"  asked  Bertie. 

"Yes,  Bertie,  I  can  get  him,"  said  Mait- 
land  thoughtfully. 

Then  the  drinks  arrived  and  for  the  mo 
ment  they  talked  of  other  matters.  Ritchie 
Maitland  had  lost  his  air  of  confidence. 


IX 

"OF   SUCH   A   NATURE   IS   HIS   POLITIC   LOVE." 
Timon  of  Athens,  III.  j. 

Secretary  Duncan  was  at  his  desk  in  the 
library  when  Violet  returned  from  Mrs. 
Rivers'  dinner.  He  glanced  up  from  his 
work  as  she  entered  the  room.  She  looked 
tired  he  thought ;  he  wished  she  would  take 
society  less  seriously. 

"Still  working,  Pater?"  said  Violet,  lay 
ing  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  affection 
ately. 

"Yes,  there  is  a  vacancy  in  the  quarter 
master's  department.  There  are  fifty  line 
officers  who  wish  to  take  a  short  road  to  a 
captaincy.  I  am  examining  the  applica 
tions." 

"Why  not  make  Jack  a  captain?" 

"Jack,  why  he  is  a  soldier  every  inch  of 
him.  Make  him  a  non-combatant!  He 
went  back  to  his  regiment  at  his  own  re 
quest.  I  asked  him  to  remain  as  a  favor  to 
me,  I  even  offered  him  a  diplomatic  ap- 
119 


120          THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

pointment,  but  he  wanted  to  be  with  his 
regiment.  You  do  n't  know  Jack  Hardy, 
Violet." 

"Yes,  Pater,  I  know  him,"  said  Violet 
thoughtfully.  "He  is  happier  with  his 
regiment." 

"Now,  my  little  girl,  you  must  run  to 
bed,"  said  the  secretary,  taking  Violet's 
hand  and  stroking  it,  "you  look  very  tired, 
and  I  have  a  lot  of  work  here  to  get  through 
with." 

Violet  kissed  him.  "Good-night,"  she 
said.  "Do  n't  work  too  hard." 

She  walked  toward  the  door  slowly,  then 
turning  suddenly,  she  came  back  to  her  fa 
ther  and  seated  herself  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair. 

"Pater,  dear,"  she  said  taking  his  hand 
and  resting  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  ''I 
have  something  I  want  to  talk  about,  do 
you  mind?" 

"No,  dear,  what  is  it?" 

"I  want  your  assistance  for  a  friend." 

"So  you  are  in  politics." 

She  smiled.  "Yes,  I  am  in  politics  for 
the  first  time.  You  know  I  have  never 
once  meddled  with  your  affairs.  I  have 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          121 

been  asked  hundreds  of  times,  but  this  time 
I  have  not  been  asked.  That  is  why  I  wish 
to  use  my  influence;  that  is  if  I  have  any," 
she  added,  drawing  her  arm  about  his  neck. 

"Well,  out  with  it,  little  lobbyist." 

"I  want  you  to  help  Mr.  Maitland  get 
appointed  Secretary  of  Embassy  in  Lon 
don." 

Secretary  Duncan  hesitated  for  a  moment 
before  replying.  "I  don't  like  that  man, 
Violet,"  he  said  finally.  "He  doesn't 
quite  ring  true." 

"I  used  to  feel  the  same  way,  but  I  had 
a  long  talk  with  him  to-night.  He  was  so 
straightforward  and  honest  that  I  quite 
changed  my  opinion." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  the 
secretary.  "I  have  only  met  him  twice. 
What  do  you  want  me  to  do." 

"Why  the  usual  thing.  See  the  Presi 
dent  and  the  Secretary  of  State.  The  mat 
ter  is  under  consideration  I  believe.  The 
best  argument  in  his  favor  is  his  thorough 
experience.  He  was  eight  years  secretary 
in  Paris." 

"And,  therefore,  has  had  his  share  of 
patronage.  It  is  time  to  give  some  one  else 


122          THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

a  chance.  That  is  what  they  will  tell  me. 
Besides  I  do  n't  like  meddling  with  affairs 
outside  of  my  department." 

"But  the  Secretary  of  State  is  your  most 
intimate  friend,"  she'  protested,  "and  the 
President  always  consults  you." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  I  should  wait 
until  I  am  consulted." 

"But,  listen,"  said  Violet,  stroking  her 
father's  hair;  "I  have  never  asked  such  a 
thing  before.  Please  do  this  for  me." 

"Well,  Violet,  just  this  once,"  the  secre 
tary  answered  somewhat  fretfully.  "But 
you  must  not  trouble  me  again  about  your 
friends.  I  do  n't  believe  in  women  med 
dling  with  politics.  Run  along  and  do  n't 
bother  me  any  more." 

"Then  you  will  see  the  President  to-mor 
row?"  said  Violet,  rising  from  her  seat. 

"Yes,  to-morrow,  right  after  the  cabinet 
meeting." 

"And  you  will  do  everything  in  your 
power?" 

"I  never  do  things  by  halves." 

"Good-night,  Pater  dear,"  she  said  as 
she  kissed  him;  "I  'm  ever  so  grateful." 

The    secretary  did   not    reply.      He  took 


THE    VICE  OF   FOOLS          123 

up  the  next  application,  and  in  a  moment 
was  immersed  in  his  work. 

Violet  went  to  her  own  room.  Her  sur 
roundings  were  characteristic  of  herself, 
there  was  nothing  obtrusive;  everything, 
even  to  the  most  trifling  silver  object  on  the 
dressing-table,  was  in  perfect  taste;  every 
thing  harmonized  with  the  color  scheme  of 
delicate  pink  and  white.  She  had  been  her 
own  decorator,  and  for  the  price  of  a  mere 
song  she  had  produced  dainty  effects  with 
chintz  and  ribbons  which  gave  to  the  room 
an  air  distinctly  of  its  own,  or  rather  of 
Violet. 

There  was  an  old-fashioned  chair  near 
the  window,  a  huge  affair  with  bulging 
arms  and  back,  into  which  you  sat  and 
were  lost  in  comfort.  There  Violet  passed 
many  an  hour  in  dreamland. 

When  she  had  laid  aside  her  gown,  un 
loosed  her  hair,  and  wrapped  herself  in  the 
folds  of  a  loose  peignoir  she  went  to  that 
chair  and  drew  it  toward  the  light  with  the 
intention  of  reading  a  few  pages  from  a  yel 
low-covered  book  Komlossy  had  recently 
given  her. 

But     she     could     not     concentrate    her 


124         THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

thoughts.  The  blurred  letters  dance  before 
her  eyes.  She  threw  the  book  away  in 
disgust. 

"Why  should  I  help  him?"  she  said  half 
aloud.  "What  is  Ritchie  Maitland  to  me? 
A  mere  acquaintance,  a  man  who  makes 
pretty  speeches  and  impresses  me  for  the 
moment  with  the  thought  that  I  am  the 
one  woman  in  whom  he  is  interested.  He 
is  nothing  to  me  and  never  can  be." 

Then  she  fell  to  thinking  about  the  Silas 
Smith  ball.  That  wild  dance — the  nook 
under  the  musicians'  gallery — Maitland's 
words — his  eyes,  almost  tender — the  cold 
ring  to  his  voice — his  mysterious  smile. 

Why  did  she  think  about  him?  she  won 
dered.  He  was  only  one  of  many  men. 
But  she  knew  him  better  now.  He  was 
not  the  cynical,  selfish  creature  she  had 
thought  him.  There  was  a  true  man  un 
derneath  it  all. 

"You  know  you  could  not  respect  me  if 
my  friendship  had  an  ulterior  motive." 

Those  words  had  the  true  ring.  She 
was  glad  she  had  espoused  his  cause.  It 
had  given  them  an  interest  in  common. 
He  was  no  longer  one  of  many  men.  He 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          125 

was  her  "friend."  She  smiled  at  the  word 
"friend."  It  made  her  think  of  Jack 
Hardy. 

Poor  Jack,  he  was  a  hero — but  Ritchie — 
yes  "Ritchie" — she  repeated  the  word 
boldly — was  a  flesh  and  blood  man,  no  bet 
ter  nor  no  worse  than  he  pretended  to  be ; 
a  man  of  experience,  who  knew  how  to  say 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time,  a  man  who 
amused  her,  a  man  whom  she  liked. 

Why  should  she  not  like  him?  People 
warned  her  against  him,  but  people  were 
always  jealous  of  every  one  more  attractive 
than  themselves — in  Washington  espe 
cially,  where  every  one  had  an  axe  to 
grind;  where  every  one  was  a  partisan. 
Ritchie  needed  a  powerful  friend.  She  was 
glad  she  had  become  that  friend.  If  he 
received  his  appointment  what  then?  He 
would  go  to  London.  He  would  pass  out 
of  her  life?  Did  she  care?  She  hesitated 
because  she  was  uncertain  of  the  answer, 
and  that  thought  frightened  her. 

Ritchie  Maitland  called  the  following 
afternoon.  It  was  late  when  he  came;  the 
lamps  had  just  been  lighted. 

Violet  had  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room 


126         THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS 

which  she  called  her  own.  There  was  a 
palm  or  two,  a  gilded  screen,  a  silver  table, 
a  window  seat,  a  lamp  with  a  becoming 
shade,  and  a  bergere  with  a  becoming  back. 
It  was  the  nook  where  she  received  her  in 
timate  friends.  She  was  sitting  there  when 
Maitland  entered ;  Komlossy  had  just  gone, 
and  he  always  put  her  in  a  cheerful  mood. 

"Better  late  than  never,  Mr.  Maitland," 
she  said,  extending  her  hand,  as  he  ap 
proached. 

"I  came  to  thank  you,"  he  said.  "I 
have  just  heard  that  your  father  has 
been  to  see  the  Secretary  of  State  in  my 
behalf." 

"Your  bureau  of  information  must  be 
well  managed.  He  could  not  have  gone 
until  this  afternoon." 

"I  have  a  friend  behind  the  throne,  or 
perhaps  under  the  throne  would  be  more 
correct,"  said  Maitland,  seating  himself  on 
the  window  seat  very  near  Violet.  The 
lamp  shone  full  in  her  face,  his  own  was 
partly  in  shadow. 

"Then  you  can  tell  me  how  the  fight 
goes,"  said  Violet. 

"None    too   well;   your    friend,    General 


'MAITI.AND  I.KANEI>  TOWARD  HKU. 

'1  DA  UK  NOT  TEl  I.  YOU,'    UK  SAID." 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          127 

Lloyd,  has  a  candidate  whom  he  is  pushing 
hard." 

' '  General  Lloyd !  Why  he  promised  me 
he  would  remain  neutral. ' ' 

''So  you  have  spoken  to  him,  too! 
Really,  Miss  Duncan,  I  cannot  thank  you 
sufficiently." 

"It  was  merely  friendship,"  said  Violet. 
"You  know  we  are  friends  now." 

"Yes,  friends,"  Maitland  said  with  a 
sigh. 

"That  sigh  was  ungrateful." 

"But  friendship  means  so  much  or  so  lit 
tle  according  to  one's  point  of  view." 

"To  me  it  means  good-fellowship,  com 
panionship,  mutual  interest  if  you  like." 
Violet  hesitated  a  moment.  ''"No,  I  think 
I  should  call  it  mutual  sympathy,  because 
without  sympathy  there  can  be  no  friend 
ship." 

"And  I,"  said  Maitland;  "why  I  dare 
not  tell  you  my  view  of  friendship." 

"Is  it  then  so  terrible?" 

Maitland  leaned  toward  her;  her  eyes  in 
voluntarily  met  his  glance.  "I  dare  not  tell 
you,"  he  said  very  softly,  "because  to  me 
it  means  so  much  more  than  what  you  call 


128         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

friendship,  it  means — oh,  what  is  the  use," 
he  laughed,  "you  would  not  understand." 

"Understand  what?"  she  asked  almost 
anxiously. 

"That  to  me  you  are  more  than  a  friend, 
you  are  an  ideal."  He  hesitated  a  mo 
ment.  Violet  turned  her  eyes  away — she 
picked  up  a  trinket  from  the  silver  table  and 
played  with  it  nervously. 

"Do  n't  misunderstand  me,"  he  said  anx 
iously.  "A  man  who  has  knocked  about 
the  world  as  I  have  done  knows  many 
women  intimately ;  he  loves  a  few  perhaps 
in  a  certain  way — others  merely  amuse  him ; 
but  always  in  his  imagination  is  the  ideal 
woman  whom  he  hopes  one  day  to  meet, 
the  woman  who  combines  the  qualities  he 
admires  most.  Do  n't  misunderstand  me, 
I  beg  of  you." 

Violet  met  his  eyes  again.  "It  is  you 
who  misunderstand  me,"  she  said;  "you 
who  think  yourself  such  a  clever  student  of 
women.  You  do  n't  know  how  strong  a 
part  ambition  plays  in  me.  You  do  n't 
know  how  thoroughly  I  enjoy  power  and 
admiration;  if  you  did  you  would  despise 
me." 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          129 

Maitland  laughed.  "Your  very  frank 
ness  gives  the  lie  to  your  self-accusation. 
You  do  not  know  yourself.  What  is  am 
bition?  Why  the  very  mainspring  of  suc 
cess  ;  what  is  the  love  of  admiration  but  the 
love  of  appreciation.  The  woman  who  does 
not  wish  to  be  admired,  if  there  be  such  a 
woman,  is  one  whose  soul  is  deadened  by 
neglect ;  one  who  realises  her  own  repulsive- 
ness.  Miss  Duncan,  it  is  your  duty  to  be 
ambitious;  it  is  your  right  to  be  admired." 

"You  should  have  been  a  lawyer;  you 
are  such  a  clever  advocate,"  said  Violet, 
pushing  away  the  stool  on  which  her  foot 
had  rested. 

' '  My  cause  is  you ;  that  is  why  I  speak 
with  such  enthusiasm." 

"That  sounds  like  one  of  the  pretty 
speeches  you  used  to  make — I  thought  you 
had  become  more  serious — now  that  we  are 
friends." 

"I  am  almost  sorry  you  accepted  the 
gage  of  friendship.  I  fear  it  was  wrung 
from  you  through  pity.  It  was  merely  the 
desire  to  help  me.  I  do  n't  wish  you  to 
think  of  me  in  such  a  way." 

"I   like  you,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said  Violet 


130         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

frankly.  "Is  that  not  sufficient  excuse  for 
being  a  friend.  I  did  not  like  you  at  first." 

"No,  you  had  been  warned  against  me; 
some  kind  friend  had  told  you  all  my  bad 
habits." 

"I  think  you  told  me  more  yourself  than 
any  one  else." 

"And  you  believed  all  I  said." 

"No,  I  merely  believed  what  you  did  not 
say,"  laughed  Violet. 

"And  were  I  to  tell  you  everything," 
Maitland  said  looking  into  her  face,  "were 
I  to  lay  bare  my  heart  and  let  you  see  me 
just  as  I  am,  what  would  you  think  then,  I 
wonder?" 

"I  should  think  that  you  were  honest." 

He  smiled.  "What  must  be  your  opin 
ion  now,"  he  said. 

"Sometimes  I  think  you  are  frank  and 
sincere,  and  then  you  grow  mysterious  again 
and  act  as  though  there  were  something  you 
were  trying  to  conceal." 

"Yes — there  is  something  I  am  trying  to 
conceal,"  he  said  feelingly.  He  left  his 
seat  and  took  a  few  hurried  steps  on  the 
floor.  Then  he  came  toward  her  quickly. 

"Do  n't  you  know,"  he  said,  "can  't  you 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          131 

see, ' '  he  leaned  toward  her  so  that  his  eyes 
looked  into  her  eyes;  "it  is  you,  Violet, 
you ;  I  care  for  you  more  than  I  thought  it 
possible  that  I  should  care  for  any  woman. 
It  is  you — forgive  me — I  can  conceal  it  no 
longer. ' ' 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it.  Her 
pulses  throbbed  responsively.  She  turned 
her  head  away ;  she  dared  not  meet  his  eyes 
again.  She  was  afraid — afraid  of  herself — 
afraid  of  him. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "I  would  not 
have  told  you,  but  you  doubted  me." 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said 
slowly. 

"Then  forget.  Let  us  be  friends  again, 
the  same  old  friends.  I  know  that  I  have 
no  right  to  hope  for  more." 

"How  could  I  forget?"  she  asked  look 
ing  up  suddenly.  He  drew  her  toward 
him,  his  arm  was  about  her;  with  a  sudden 
effort  she  pushed  him  away.  "No!  no!" 
she  cried,  "not  now,  not  now." 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said  humbly.  "Tell 
me  you  will  forgive  me.  Tell  me  I  may 
come  again,  just  as  I  used  to  come;  that 
some  day — not  now — a  long  way  off  per- 


132          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

haps,  some  day  when  you  know  me  better 
and  have  learned  to  trust  me — tell  me  that 
then  I  may  come  again  and  speak  as  I  have 
spoken  to-day.  That  is  all  I  ask." 

Violet  turned  her  head  away.  "It  all 
depends  upon  yourself,  Ritchie,"  she  said 
slowly;  "whether  I  learn  to  trust  you." 

He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  "Good 
bye,"  he  said,  "good-bye;  I  ask  no  other 
answer. ' ' 

Violet  gazed  at  the  floor  silently.  When 
she  looked  up  he  had  gone. 

The  suddenness  with  which  it  happened 
had  dazed  her;  she  tried  to  think  but  her 
thoughts  were  wild  and  incoherent.  She 
felt  still  the  pressure  of  his  lips  upon  her 
hand,  the  quick  beating  of  her  own  heart. 

"Do  I  love  him?"  she  cried  in  bewilder 
ment.  "Is  this  love?" 

She  had  asked  herself  a  question  she 
dared  not  answer.  Think  of  it  as  she 
would  there  was  always  a  feeling  of  fear — 
of  mistrust.  She  was  afraid  of  Ritchie 
Maitland,  afraid  of  the  power  he  was  gain 
ing  over  her. 

Secretary  Duncan  entered  the  room. 
Violet  ran  toward  her  father. 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          133 

"Did  you  see  the  President?"  she  asked 
anxiously.  "What  did  he  say?" 

The  secretary  shook  his  head.  "I  am 
afraid  it  is  too  late.  They  have  about  de 
cided  to  appoint  a  New  York  man.  You 
see  it  is  a  question  of  politics." 

"Pater,  you  must  stop  it — you  must  see 
the  President  again." 

"But,  Violet!"  said  Secretary  Duncan, 
"you  forget  my  position  in  the  matter." 

"I  never  wanted  anything  so  much  in  my 
whole  life, ' '  said  Violet,  throwing  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "Ask  it  as  a  personal  favor 
to  you.  The  President  can  't  refuse." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  her  father,  strok 
ing  her  cheek  affectionately;  "I  will  do  my 
best.  The  President  promised  me  to-day 
that  he  would  not  make  the  appointment 
without  consulting  me  further." 

"Then  you  will  see  him  again;  you  will 
urge  it." 

"But  I  don't  understand,  child,"  said 
the  secretary  in  a  puzzled  tone.  "Why  are 
you  so  anxious  about  this  appointment; 
what  interest  have  you  in  this  man?" 

"Don't  ask  me,"  she  cried,  "don't  ask 
me — now. ' ' 


134          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Why,  Violet,  how  strangely  you  act. 
Why,  you  are  crying." 

She  left  him  hurriedly  and  ran  to  her  own 
room.  Throwing  herself  upon  the  bed,  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillows.  Finally  her 
maid  came.  It  was  time  for  her  to  dress. 
She  was  calmer  then,  she  could  think  dis 
passionately  of  all  that  had  happened,  and 
as  she  thought  a  sudden  resolve  came  to 
her. 

"I  will  do  it,"  she  said  firmly,  "I  will 
put  his  love  to  the  test." 

As  she  was  leaving  the  house  to  go  to 
dine  at  the  Hungarian  Legation  she  went  to 
her  father's  room. 

"You  need  not  see  the  President,  Pater, 
unless  you  wish  to,"  she  said.  "If  you  do, 
advise  him  to  appoint  the  New  York  man. 
I  think  it  would  be  better." 

Secretary  Duncan  looked  up  dumb 
founded.  "Violet!"  he  exclaimed. 

She  did  not  answer,  she  had  left  the 
room. 


X 


'TWAS  AT  A  FEAST." 
Cymbeline,   V.  2. 


The  set  in  which  Komlossy  moved  was 
known  as  "Olympus"  because  certain 
diplomats  were  enthroned  as  gods,  and  cer 
tain  women  were  their  slaves  and  cup 
bearers.  Komlossy  played  the  role  of  Jupi 
ter;  when  he  thundered,  his  subjects  trem 
bled  ;  when  he  smiled  they  fawned. 

But  slights  at  Olympus  were  only  cast 
by  certain  jealous  mortals  in  the  form  of 
American  youths,  who  being  beyond  the 
pale,  envied  the  gods.  Sometimes  they 
beat  their  breasts  with  anguish,  sometimes 
they  defied  the  lightning  which  somehow 
never  seemed  to  strike  their  way. 

Dinners  at  the  Hungarian  Legation  were 
few  and  far  between.  The  minister  enter 
tained  for  his  own  edification  and  not  for 
the  settlement  of  social  obligations.  His 
government  was  rather  penurious,  and  not 
being  provided  with  an  official  residence, 
'35 


136         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Komlossy  made  the  excuse  that  his  little 
house  in  Connecticut  Avenue  was  merely 
a  pied  &  terre  where  he  could  only  invite  a 
few  intimates  who  were  willing  to  take  pot 
luck  with  him. 

Mrs.  Herkomer,  the  wife  of  the  St.  Louis 
millionaire,  who  had  just  completed  a  su 
perb  palace  in  Dupont  Circle,  Mrs.  Love, 
Mrs.  Silas  Smith  and  other  disbursers  of 
social  munificence  had  never  crossed  his 
threshold,  but  his  name  remained  at  the 
head  of  their  invitation  lists.  No  wonder 
he  was  spoiled.  He  could  do  as  he  pleased, 
and  it  pleased  him  to  amuse  himself  with 
out  regard  to  others. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  dinner  at  the  little 
Connecticut  Avenue  pied  el  terre  was  a  feast 
worthy  of  the  gods.  As  a  scene  of  revelry 
it  suggested  a  Roman  banquet ;  as  a  repast 
it  recalled  the  most  savory  delicacies  of 
many  lands.  Komlossy 's  cuisine  was  Cath 
olic — or  rather  French-Catholic — for  his 
cook  was  a  Parisian  who  had  followed  him 
in  the  various  peregrinations  of  his  diplo 
matic  career,  picking  up,  here  and  there,  a 
dainty  receipt  to  which  he  always  added  a 
dash  of  Parisian  flavor. 


* 

THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          137 

The  number  of  guests  at  one  of  Kom- 
lossy's  feasts  was  limited  to  ten,  the  table 
was  laid  in  a  little  alcove  opening  into 
the  drawing-room.  It  was  chosen  in 
stead  of  the  regular  dining-room,  because 
Komlossy  prided  himself  upon  his  orig 
inality.  The  room  was  pentagonal  in  form, 
and  a  broad  oriental  divan  completely  encir 
cled  it.  The  table  was  placed  before  this 
divan,  and  there  the  guests  were  seated. 
The  opposite  side  was  left  unoccupied,  the 
service  being  performed  from  there.  The 
walls  were  hung  with  brilliant  yellow  bro 
cade  ;  yellow  roses  and  leaves  of  vivid  green 
were  heaped  upon  the  table ;  gilded  lamps 
hung  by  chains  from  above,  and  trailing 
from  the  ceiling  was  a  profusion  of  rare 
orchids;  the  odor  of  incense  mingled  with 
the  perfume  of  the  roses,  and  the  music  of 
mandolins  came  softly  from  behind  a  lat 
ticed  screen. 

Little  Komlossy,  presiding  in  the  centre 
of  that  circle  of  intimates,  indeed  recalled 
some  Lucullus  of  a  by-gone  day.  On  the 
occasion  of  the  dinner  to  which  Violet  had 
been  bidden,  he  was  almost  smothered 
between  Mrs.  Cortland  and  Mrs.  Jack 


138          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Elliott.  He  had  an  arm  drawn  partly  about 
the  shoulders  of  each.  Do  not  be  shocked, 
Komlossy  was  over  fifty,  and  this  was 
Olympus.  The  gods  were  accorded  privi 
leges  unknown  to  mortals,  especially  after 
the  liveried  Ganymedes  had  performed  his 
service. 

Madame  Petrides,  the  wife  of  the  Greek 
Minister,  was  smoking  a  Russian  cigarette, 
but  Madame  Petrides  was  a  foreigner.  It 
would  not  do  to  suspect  the  other  women 
of  emulating  her  example.  General  Lloyd 
wore  a  garland  of  smilax  entwined  about  his 
head.  It  had  been  placed  there  by  Mrs. 
Elliott  because  it  was  so  becoming,  and  of 
course  Dionysius  should  have  a  place  among 
the  gods. 

Sweet-tongued  Apollo,  in  the  form  of 
Maitland,  was  trilling  his  lute — a  mandolin 
snatched  from  a  son  of  Naples  in  the  ad 
joining  room — and  singing  a  song  of  the 
cafes  chantants,  to  which  Brankovan — 
sedate,  bearded  Brankovan — was  beating 
time  with  a  spoon,  while  Poniaminski,  the 
Polish  secretary,  was  interrupting  fre 
quently  and  insisting  that  he  was  a  far  more 
skillful  vocalist  than  Maitland. 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          139 

It  was  harmless  gayety,  of  the  sort  that 
makes  life  more  bearable,  at  times,  but 
there  were  two  of  the  guests  who  did  not 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion. 
Phoebe  Smith,  invited  by  Komlossy  purely 
out  of  deviltry  in  order  that  he  might  chaff 
Maitland,  did  not  know  quite  what  to  make 
of  it  all.  She  felt  more  or  less  constrained 
by  the  fact  that  she  was  not  one  of  that 
set,  and  being  demure  by  nature,  her  chief 
occupation  was  staring  in  wonderment  at 
the  proceedings. 

Violet,  too,  was  not  in  a  mood  for  levity. 
Her  thoughts  were  too  serious.  She  was 
looking  at  Maitland  and  trying  to  read  be 
neath  the  surface,  trying  to  know  him — try 
ing  to  understand  the  promptings  of  her 
own  heart. 

Maitland  finished  his  song. 

"Come,  Melpomene,"  said  Komlossy, 
addressing  Violet,  "cheer  up,  we  want  no 
tragic  muse  here.  Sing,  dance,  do  some 
thing." 

"If  I  dance  you  must  play  the  fiddle," 
Violet  said  with  an  effort  to  throw  aside  her 
sombre  mood. 

"I  '11  play  the  piano,"  said  Komlossy. 


140         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Capital!  Capital!"  shouted  Mrs.  Cort- 
land.  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  perform 
ance  is  only  half  over,"  she  continued, 
rapping  on  the  table  with  a  spoon  to  com 
mand  attention.  "In  the  adjoining  pa 
vilion  Seflorita  Violeta,  the  distinguished 
Spanish  ballerina,  will  now  dance  a  pas  seul. 
This  wonderful  feat — I  should  say  her  won 
derful  feet — will  be  accompanied  on  the 
piano  by  Herr  Janos  Komlossy,  the  world 
renowned  Hungarian  rhapsody." 

"Here!     Here!"   shouted  the  guests. 

"And  immediately  following  this  unique 
performance,"  she  continued,  "Herr  Ladis- 
laus  van  Poniaminski,  a  genuine  tumbler 
from  the  Poland  Spring,  will  entertain  you 
with  an  original  rendition  of  the  danse 
Polonaise,  The  gentlemanly  ushers  will 
now  pass  among  you  with  tickets.  Ladies 
unaccompanied  by  gentlemen  will  not  be 
admitted." 

When  the  applause  which  greeted  this 
effusion  had  subsided,  there  was  a  general 
movement  toward  the  drawing-room.  Vio 
let,  blushing  and  remonstrating,  tried  to 
resist  the  efforts  of  Mrs.  Cortland  and  Ma 
dame  Petrides  to  drag  her  into  the  centre 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          141 

of  the  room,  but  it  was  unavailing,  dance 
she  must,  or  at  least  make  the  attempt. 

Komlossy  had  already  taken  his  seat  at 
the  piano.  "What  shall  it  be,  Miss  Dun 
can?"  he  asked. 

"Something  Spanish  of  course — The 
Sevillana." 

Immediately  the  little  man's  fingers 
rolled  over  the  keys. 

Violet  was  disappointed.  She  had 
thought  to  escape  through  his  inability  to 
play  the  air. 

The  Spanish  music  was  greeted  with  ap 
plause.  Every  one  looked  at  Violet.  But 
she  was  not  to  be  made  ridiculous.  Quick 
as  a  flash  she  assumed  a  Spanish  attitude. 
Then  in  a  moment  with  head  thrown  back 
and  fingers  snapping,  she  was  dancing  that 
characteristic  dance  of  sunny  Andalusia, 
the  Sevillana.  Her  movements  were  lithe ; 
her  steps  were  perfect.  She  danced  with 
the  true  abandon  of  the  South,  but  grace 
ful  and  modest  withal. 

A  murmur  of  surprise — then  a  burst  of 
applause,  greeted  her  efforts.  "Encore! 
Encore!"  they  shouted,  as  she  sank  breath 
less  on  a  divan. 


142          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"I  builded  better  than  I  knew,"  said 
Mrs.  Cortland. 

"How  charming,"  said  Poniaminski. 

"A  rival  to  Carmencita, "  put  in  Mait- 
land. 

"Where  on  earth  did  you  learn  it?" 
asked  Mrs.  Elliott. 

"Charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins,"  an 
swered  Violet.  "I  learned  it  from  a  Span 
ish  girl  in  Paris,  to  dance  at  a  charity 
bazaar. ' ' 

"At  last  I  have  discovered  the  utility  of 
a  charity  bazaar,"  said  General  Lloyd. 

"Now,  it  's  your  turn,  Poniaminski." 

"Never,  after  that  performance.  I 
should  be  hissed  off  the  stage." 

"Oh,  but  you  promised,"  said  Mrs. 
Elliott. 

"Yes,  you  must,"  added  Madame  Pet- 
rides. 

And  between  them  they  dragged  the  un 
fortunate  Pole  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 
Komlossy  struck  up  the  lively  Polonaise, 
Maitland  accompanied  with  his  mandolin, 
and  soon  Poniaminski  was  dancing  with  all 
the  fire  and  dash  of  his  native  land. 

The    applause   which    greeted    him    was 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          143 

perfunctory,  however.  Violet  had  taken 
the  edge  off  his  performance;  her  dancing 
had  been  such  a  complete  surprise. 

Soon  the  party  was  breaking  up  into  the 
inevitable  little  groups  of  two. 

Maitland  wandered  toward  the  corner 
where  Phoebe  Smith  was  sitting.  Kom- 
lossy  smiled  when  he  saw  the  movement; 
then  he  persuaded  Mrs.  Cortland  to  inspect 
his  collection  of  Japanese  bronzes  in  a 
neighboring  room.  General  Lloyd  came 
toward  Violet,  who  for  the  moment  was 
occupying  a  divan  alone.  He  took  the  seat 
beside  her. 

"How  dare  you  brave  my  anger,  Gen 
eral?"  she  said,  shaking  her  head  in  a 
threatening  manner. 

"Your  anger!     Why  your  anger?" 

"You  do  not  play  fair;  you  have  not  held 
to  the  neutrality  you  promised." 

"You  misjudge  me,"  said  the  General 
apologetically,  "I  have  done  absolutely 
nothing  since  our  interview." 

"I  see.  Your  work  had  been  so  well 
done  before  that  further  effort  was  unneces 
sary." 

The  General  smiled.     "I  am  a  politician, 


144         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

Miss  Duncan.  At  least  that  is  what  the 
newspapers  call  me." 

"For  once  the  papers  speak  the  truth." 

"But  I  have  one  redeeming  feature.  I 
seek  office  only  for  others." 

"That  is  because  you  know  the  futility 
of  office-holding." 

"Office-holding  is  an  insidious  habit," 
answered  the  General  gravely.  "Quite  as 
bad  as  opium  eating.  It  ruins  a  man  for 
anything  else.  There  is  no  particular  satis 
faction  in  it,  and  it  seems  impossible  to 
cure  the  desire." 

"So  you  believe  in  letting  your  patients 
gratify  themselves  to  the  fullest  extent," 
said  Violet.  "That  is  neither  a  cure  nor  a 
preventive." 

"I  find  my  patients  much  less  restive  in 
office  than  out;  therefore  I  believe  in  grati 
fying  them  as  far  as  possible." 

Violet  thought  a  moment.  "No,"  she 
said,  shaking  her  head  doubtfully,  "I 
do  n't  believe  in  your  theory.  I  think  the 
only  cure  is  to  deny  the  patient  the  means 
of  gratifying  his  craving.  What  would  you 
say  if  I  were  to  release  you  from  your 
pledge  of  neutrality." 


THE    VICE   OF    FOOLS          145 

"I  should  say  that  the  ways  of  women 
were  past  finding  out." 

"Well,  I  release  you,"  answered  Violet, 
glancing  toward  Maitland. 

"Now  I  am  tempted  to  go  to  the  Presi 
dent  and  urge  Mr.  Maitland' s  appoint 
ment,"  said  the  General. 

"And  why,  pray?" 

"Because  it  would  get  him  out  of  the 
country.  I  am  jealous  of  this — this  Mr. 
Maitland,"  he  added,  looking  into  Violet's 
face. 

"Jealous!"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  aston 
ishment. 

"I  fear  he  stands  in  the  way  of  a  project 
which  is  very  near  my  heart." 

"Why,  General,  I  thought  you  disap 
proved  of  hearts." 

"So  I  do  for  women;  when  I  marry  again 
I  should  like  to  feel  sure  that  my  wife's 
heart  had  already  been  broken." 

"To  save  you  the  trouble  of  breaking  it 
yourself?" 

"No,  I  believe  it  is  wise  for  a  woman  to 
get  over  being  in  love  before  she  is  married, 
then  she  will  be  able  to  appreciate  marriage. 
She  will  be  able  to  realise  that  the  intensity 


146         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

of  love  is  an  unnatural  state — a  disease  of 
the  nervous  system ;  while  matrimony  when 
entered  into  judiciously  is  the  only  possible 
road  to  contentment." 

"How  cold-blooded,"  said  Violet  with  a 
shudder. 

"You  say  that  because  your  heart  has 
not  yet  been  broken.  You  have  yet  to 
discover  that  men  are  never  angels.  When 
you  learn  that  they  are  only  mortals — and 
very  treacherous  mortals  at  that — you  will 
appreciate  my  philosophy." 

' '  I  hope  that  day  may  never  come, ' '  she 
replied. 

"And  I  hope  it  may  come  very  soon," 
said  the  General.  "When  it  does  come 
you  will  realise  that  success  is  the  only  at 
tainable  goal  in  this  w6rld,  and  even  that  is 
precarious." 

"I  am  sure  you  dc-  n't  believe  your  own 
cynicism, ' '  she  said  looking  him  full  in  the 
face. 

"Possibly  not,"  he  laughed,  "but  at  my 
age  a  man  is  forced  to  believe  something  of 
the  sort.  You  see,  I  am  too  old  to  have 
women  fall  in  love  with  me ;  therefore  I  try 
to  keep  them  from  falling  in  love  with 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          147 

others.  That  is  where  my  jealousy  betrays 
itself.  You  remember  I  said  I  was  jeal 
ous." 

"Of  Mr.  Maitland,"  she  interrupted. 

"Yes,  of  Mr.  Maitland,"  he  said. 

"Then  the  natural  course  would  be  for 
you  to  defeat  his  appointment ;  would  it 
not?"  she  answered  rather  eagerly. 

"The  natural  course  would  be  for  me  to 
wonder  at  your  sudden  change  of  front." 

"He  has  offended  me,  that  is  all,"  said 
Violet,  looking  away. 

"Are you  quite  sure?"  the  General  asked. 

Violet  did  not  reply. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "I  am  merely  a 
neutral.  Until  you  give  me  the  right  to 
become  a  principal  I  shall  remain  a  neu 
tral." 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  she  said 
looking  up  suddenly. 

"Break  your  heart,"  he  answered,  meet 
ing  her  eyes. 

Violet  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said  suddenly  chang 
ing  the  tone  of  his  voice,  "I  suppose  you 
will  be  at  the  White  House  to-morrow 
night.  What  a  confounded  nuisance  these 


148         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

political  functions  are.  Every  time  I  go  to 
the  White  House  I  begin  to  lose  faith  in 
republican  institutions." 

He  had  changed  the  subject.  Violet 
considered  it  a  relief.  This  cold,  designing 
man  seemed  to  read  her  through  and 
through.  She  knew  she  was  no  match  for 
him,  not  in  her  present  state  of  mind,  at 
least.  Her  faculties  seemed  dulled — she 
could  not  concentrate  her  thoughts — she 
was  thinking  always  of  Maitland,  and  won 
dering  what  the  future  would  bring  forth. 

A  half  hour  later,  when  the  party  was 
breaking  up,  Maitland  came  toward  Violet. 
Except  for  a  perfunctory  greeting  upon  her 
arrival,  he  had  not  spoken  to  her  the  entire 
evening.  His  indifference  had  annoyed  her. 
She  found  it  difficult  to  understand  his 
attitude. 

"I  have  waited  for  a  moment  to  speak  to 
you,"  he  said. 

"You  have  certainly  waited  a  long  time," 
she  answered  coldly. 

"I  could  not  talk  to  you  when  others 
were  about.  It  would  have  been  so  unsat 
isfactory — so  different  from  this  afternoon." 

Violet  turned  her  head  away. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          149 

"You  act  strangely,  Violet.  Has  any 
thing  happened?"  he  asked. 

"No,  nothing  has  happened,"  she  said. 
"I  was  wondering,"  she  hesitated,  "I  was 
wondering  whether  you  meant  all  that  you 
said  this  afternoon." 

"How  can  you  doubt  me?"  he  asked 
feelingly. 

"I  think  it  is  myself  that  I  doubt." 

"Then  I  must  convert  you  to  my  own 
faith  in  yourself." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"Why  do  you  make  those  speeches?" 
she  asked.  "Those  speeches  which  are  so 
prettily  turned  but  mean  so  little.  It  is 
that  which  makes  me  mistrust  you." 

"So  you  are  still  doubtful,"  he  said 
gently.  "Why  not  put  me  to  the  test?" 

"May  I,  Ritchie?"   she  asked. 

"You  ask  my  permission?" 

"Yes,  "she  said  lookinghim  full  in  the  eyes. 

"What  a  strange  girl  you  are,  "he  laughed. 

"That  is  evading  the  question." 

"Well,  my  Torquemada,  start  the  en 
gines  of  your  inquisition.  I  am  ready." 

"Very  well  then;  remember  you  have 
placed  yourself  on  trial." 


150         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

"And  remember  that  you  are  testing  my 
faith." 

"No,  Ritchie;  I  am  testing  my  own 
faith." 

"Very  well,  as  you  please,"  he  said  with 
a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

This  action ;  the  tone  of  his  voice  an 
gered  her.  She  turned  away  abruptly.  I 
am  right,  she  thought,  in  putting  his  love  to 
the  test. 

"General  Lloyd,  one  moment;  I  want  to 
speak  to  you,"  she  called  suddenly. 

The  General  was  just  leaving  the  room ; 
he  turned  and  came  toward  her.  Maitland 
wandered  away  discreetly. 

"Would  you  think  it  very  strange,"  she 
**said,  "if  I  asked  a  great  favor  of  you?" 

The  General  bowed.  "If  it  is  within  my 
power,  you  have  but  to  command,"  he 
answered. 

"I  wish  you  to  use  all  your  influence  on 
behalf  of  your  New  York  friend." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  he  said  coldly. 

"And,"  she  continued  hesitatingly, 
"what  I  have  just  said  shall  remain  a  secret 
between  ourselves." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  command." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          151 

"Thank  you,  General  Lloyd,"  she  re 
plied,  extending  her  hand. 

The  General  smiled.  "The  favor  is  very 
slight  I  assure  you,"  he  said.  "It  will  not 
take  much  influence  on  my  part.  Good 
night,  Miss  Duncan." 

"Good-night,"  she  answered  hesitatingly. 
She  had  already  begun  to  regret  her  action. 
It  seemed  underhand — cowardly.  She 
went  toward  Maitland.  He  was  standing 
alone  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  He 
had  been  watching  her  keenly;  his  plans 
were  maturing  beyond  his  fondest  expecta 
tions  he  thought. 

"I  am  going  now,"  she  said,  extending 
her  hand. 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 

"Good-night,  Violet,"  he  whispered. 

She  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand. 
She  longed  to  tell  him  what  she  had  done, 
and  ask  his  forgiveness  before  it  was  too 
late.  Was  it  pride  or  was  it  fear  that  re 
strained  her?  She  did  not  know. 

"To-morrow,  Ritchie;  I  shall  see  you  to 
morrow." 

"Yes,  to-morrow,  and  every  day  until 
you  learn  to  trust  me,"  he  said  fervently. 


152         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

When  she  had  gone,  Maitland  turned 
and  walked  toward  Phoebe  Smith.  She 
was  just  taking  leave  of  the  host.  He 
waited,  and  then  he  sauntered  with  her  to 
ward  the  stairs.  "May  I  come  to  see  you 
to-morrow,  early?"  he  asked.  "I  should 
like  so  much  to  help  you  arrange  your 
posters.  You  know  Cheret  was  a  great 
friend  of  mine  when  I  was  in  Paris.  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  him." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  it  would  not  be 
troubling  you,  Mr.  Maitland?"  said  Phoebe 
Smith  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smirks. 

"On  the  contrary  it  would  be  a  pleas 
ure." 

"Then  I  shall  expect  you.  Shall  we  say 
four  o'clock." 

"That  would  suit  me  exactly." 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Maitland.  It  is  so 
good  of  you." 

When  she  had  gone,  he  turned  and  found 
Komlossy  at  his  elbow. 

"Any  fool  can  fall  in  love,"  grunted  the 
little  Magyar;  "it  takes  a  wise  man  to  fall 
on  his  feet." 


XI 

"A   CERTAIN   CONVOCATION   OF   POLITIC   WORMS." 

Hamlet,  IV.  3. 

Ritchie  Maitland  crowded  through  the 
door  of  the  White  House.  He  had  no 
official  standing  entitling  him  to  enter  with 
the  diplomatic  corps,  but  like  others  of  the 
social  elect  he  had  evaded  the  scrutiny  of 
the  officials.  By  temporarily  attaching 
himself  to  the  Hungarian  Legation  he 
slipped  past  the  door-keeper  in  the  wake  of 
Komlossy,  only  to  find  himself  in  singular 
contrast  to  the  gorgeousness  about  him. 

In  that  medley  of  embroidered  coat  tails 
and  glittering  crosses,  silken  sashes  and 
gilded  rapiers,  Maitland  felt  ill  at  ease  in  a 
plain  black  coat.  His  lengthy  residence 
abroad  had  instilled  in  him  a  supreme  con 
tempt  for  Jeffersonian  simplicity.  As  he 
glanced  about  at  the  various  envoys  of  the 
old  world  to  the  new,  waiting  there  for  the 
opportunity  to  pay  respect  to  the  chief 
magistrate,  he  blushed  for  what  he  called 


154          THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

the  boorishness  of  democracy.  To  his  mind 
simplicity  was  penury — the  want  of  ostenta 
tion  and  formality,  a  lack  of  dignity  and 
breeding.  He  scorned  his  surroundings 
and  longed  for  the  moment  when  he 
could  cease  paying  court  to  politicians 
and  shake  the  dust  of  Washington  from  his 
feet. 

At  last  his  intricate  mesh  of  wires — the 
labor  of  months — seemed  smoothly  laid. 
He  congratulated  himself  upon  the  fact  that 
soon  he,  too,  would  have  official  standing 
— a  place  at  court.  He  had  heard  from 
Bertie  Way  late  the  night  before  that  Gen 
eral  Lloyd  was  no  longer  openly  opposing 
his  appointment.  He  had  not  heard  of 
Violet's  later  request,  so  he  felt  that  he  had 
only  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  victory. 

There  was  a  movement  among  the  assem 
bled  diplomats;  the  dean  of  the  corps  had 
arrived. 

A  diplomat's  precedence,  like  a  woman's 
virtue,  should  not  be  trifled  with.  So,  in 
spite  of  the  democratic  simplicity  of  the 
ceremony,  there  was  considerable  delay  be 
fore  the  ambassadors  and  envoys,  the  secre 
taries  and  attaches,  together  with  their 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          155 

wives  and  daughters  were  sorted  out  and 
arranged  in  their  proper  places.  Mean 
while  phlegmatic  Teutons  and  reticent 
Britons,  swarthy  Northmen  and  saffron- 
skinned  Celestials  jostled  each  other  good- 
naturedly,  while  impetuous  Franks  and  im 
perious  Spaniards,  diminutive  Japs  and 
arrogant  Slavs  chattered  in  their  several 
tongues  and  posed  resplendent  in  the  cos 
tumes  of  their  several  lands.  There  were 
the  flowing  robes  of  Oriental  envoys,  the 
gilded  epaulets  and  clanking  side  arms  of 
Occidental  attaches,  mingling  with  the 
diplomatic  dresses  of  many  courts,  some 
modest  and  simple  like  those  of  England, 
others  of  feudal  splendor,  glittering  with 
jeweled  crosses,  sashed  with  the  cordons  of 
chivalric  orders — the  gorgeous  liveries  of 
imperial  masters. 

And  all  this  old-world  splendor  was  to 
honor  the  chief  citizen  of  a  republic,  a  sim 
ple,  open-hearted  man  who  had  risen  step  by 
step  from  the  soil,  a  farmer's  son,  who  at 
the  call  of  the  nation  had  gone  forth  to 
battle  for  the  right;  a  soldier,  who,  when 
the  war  was  ended,  returned  to  civil  life 
without  fortune  or  prospect ;  a  man  whose 


156          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

only  future  lay  in  his  indomitable  will,  his 
unerring  sense  of  duty  to  be  done. 

Yet  there  were  those  like  Maitland  there 
— Americans  all — who  scorned  this  man  be 
cause  he  was  unpolished — because  he  was 
of  the  soil.  There  was  Maitland,  too,  who 
wished  to  represent  his  country  abroad  be 
cause  he  did  not  care  to  live  at  home;  be 
cause  he  hated  the  simplicity  of  a  democ 
racy  and  longed  for  the  pomp  and  splendor 
of  a  court. 

The  imposing  array  of  diplomats  passed 
before  the  President.  Maitland  and  the 
social  elect  followed.  In  marked  contrast 
to  the  gorgeous  ambassadors  and  envoys 
was  the  tall  figure  of  the  chief  magis 
trate  attired  in  simple  evening  clothes  with 
out  cordon  or  cross,  without  fuss  or  osten 
tation.  His  keen,  searching  eyes  were 
indicative  of  the  man's  power,  his  clean 
shaven  lip  and  bearded  chin,  his  thin  fea 
tures  and  high  cheek  bones  were  typical  of 
his  race — the  Puritan.  He  had  a  warm 
shake  of  the  hand  and  a  word  of  welcome 
for  every  comer. 

Maitland  knew  when  he  took  the  Presi 
dent's  hand  and  met  his  keen  glance  that 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          157 

he  was  being  scrutinized ;  he  felt  uncomfort 
able  and  was  glad  to  pass  on  down  the  line 
of  fluttering  petticoats  beyond.  Violet  was 
there  with  the  "ladies  of  the  cabinet." 
There  was  but  a  moment  for  a  glance  of 
recognition,  a  pressure  of  the  hand,  but  in 
that  glance  he  read  more  than  he  had  been 
intended  to  read. 

He  was  crowded  on  by  the  throng  which 
had  been  waiting  at  the  main  entrance.  He 
had  intended  to  step  behind  the  line  where 
many  of  his  friends  already  were,  but  for 
the  moment  the  crush  had  been  too  great 
and  he  was  borne  on  with  the  stream  of 
humanity  already  filling  every  crevice  of  the 
White  House. 

It  was  a  reception  by  invitation  to  the 
diplomatic  corps,  but  all  sorts  and  con 
ditions  of  officialdom  were  in  attendance, 
with  their  wives  and  daughters  in  prepond 
erance. 

With  an  amused  sneer  Maitland  gazed 
about  him.  Lanky  congressmen  from 
lonely  districts  were  there,  awkward  and 
uncomfortable  in  ill-fitting  "swallow  tails  " 
of  shining  broadcloth,  while  their  scraggy 
little  wives  bobbed  and  fidgeted  and  fairly 


158          THE  VICE    OF    FOOLS 

oozed  importance.  Senators  and  members 
of  renown,  men  whose  names  were  con 
stantly  before  the  public,  wandered  among 
the  crowd  receiving  the  greetings  of  their 
admirers  with  an  air  of  conscious  greatness, 
while  visiting  constituents  were  craning 
their  necks  and  endeavoring  not  to  miss  a 
sight  of  the  exalted.  Veterans  of  the  late 
unpleasantness,  grizzled  generals  and  ad 
mirals,  were  assembled  in  force,  their  bulg 
ing  forms  straining  the  gilded  buttons  of 
uniforms  but  seldom  worn,  their  breasts 
weighted  with  badges  of  various  corps,  and 
the  insignia  of  patriotic  societies.  We 
Americans  are  almost  childish  in  our  love 
of  distinctive  trinkets  with  which  to  array 
ourselves — so  the  retired  veterans  were  not 
alone  in  this  display.  Many  a  civilian  coat 
was  plastered  over  with  ribbons  and  bau 
bles,  meaningless  except  to  the  wearers, 
but  as  proudly  worn  as  if  bestowed  by 
a  grateful  nation  for  bravery  on  the  field  of 
battle  or  research  in  the  realms  of  science. 
There  were  officers  of  the  army  and  navy, 
too,  sturdy  and  erect,  in  simple  uniforms  of 
blue;  there  were  women  in  low-necked 
gowns  with  diamonds  galore;  there  were 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          159 

women  in  high-necked  gowns  and  mitts ;  and 
mingling  with  them  all  were  disdainful 
diplomats,  who  having  passed  in  review, 
were  making  the  best  of  a  disagreeable 
duty,  and  trying  to  pick  out  intimate  friends 
from  the  motley  throng.  Through  a  neigh 
boring  door  came  the  strains  of  music,  and 
in  the  distance  were  the  glinting  uniforms 
of  the  Marine  Band. 

Maitland  reviewed  it  all  and  smiled.  This 
is  democracy,  he  thought. 

"You  do  n't  approve,  do  you,  Mr.  Mait 
land?"  said  Mrs.  Cortland  at  his  elbow. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Cortland,  are  you  here?" 
answered  Maitland  in  surprise. 

"Why  should  I  not  be  here?  If  I  were 
in  Berlin  or  Rome  I  should  go  to  court  if  I 
were  permitted." 

"Ah,  but  that  is  different;  the  rabble 
does  not  go  to  court." 

"So  you  call  this  a  rabble — the  men  who 
govern  your  country,  the  men  who  have 
fought  to  preserve  it?" 

"But  look  at  the  clothes  they  wear,  look 
at  the  guys  those  women  make  of  them 
selves." 

"Mr.  Maitland   I  have  you  in  my  power. 


160         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

That  one  remark,  repeated  to  the  Presi 
dent — " 

"But  Mrs.  Cortland  would  not  repeat  a 
remark  spoken  to  her  in  confidence,"  said 
Maitland  nervously. 

"Fortunately  for  you,"  answered  Mrs. 
Cortland,  "it  was  I  who  caught  you  nap 
ping,  not  some  one  else.  But  honestly,  do 
you  think  that  feeling  as  you  do,  you  ought 
to  aspire  to  represent  this  country?" 

"Possibly  not,"  he  answered  sarcastic 
ally.  "They  should  send  some  rampant 
Westerner  in  my  place;  one  who  would 
trample  contemptuously  upon  the  tra 
ditions  of  the  old  world,  and  flaunt  his 
Americanism  before  the  effete  monarchs  of 
Europe." 

"It  seems  to  me  it  must  be  possible  to 
find  a  mean  between  the  extremes  of  snob 
and  boor,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland  quietly. 

Maitland  glared  at  her  angrily. 

"Don't  get  angry,"  she  laughed,  "you 
brought  it  on  yourself.  You  attacked  and 
I  defended.  I  happen  to  be  proud  of  my 
country,  you  know." 

She  turned  away  and  left  him. 

"Damn  the  woman,"  he  muttered  under 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          161 

his  breath,  "I  did  express  my  feelings  un 
guardedly.  Fortunately  she  is  not  spiteful, 
whatever  else  she  may  be." 

He  wandered  through  the  crowd.  Phoebe 
Smith  was  partly  filling  a  huge  arm-chair 
under  the  shade  of  a  protecting  palm. 
Maitland  stopped  to  speak  to  her. 

"I  knew  I  should  find  her  if  I  looked 
long  enough,"  he  said. 

"Who?"   asked  Phoebe. 

"The  prettiest  girl  in  the  room.  Can 
you  deny  the  allegation,  Miss  Smith?" 

"Don't  be  absurd,  Mr.  Maitland,"  said 
Phoebe,  blushing  and  trying  to  look  uncon 
scious. 

"Homage  may  be  fanatical  but  it  is  never 
absurd.  Besides  what  is  the  use  of  being 
beautiful  if  you  are  not  aware  of  it?" 

"Perhaps  I  am  aware  of  it,"  she  said 
naively. 

"Oh  no,  you  are  not,"  protested  Mait 
land,  "your  greatest  charm  is  modesty. 
I  hate  girls  who  are  self-assertive,  girls 
who  enter  a  room  with  an  air  which  says — 
'I  am  here;  I  am  beautiful;  now  admire 
me.'  ' 

"Why,  who  does  that,  Mr.  Maitland?" 


162          THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"I  could  not  be  so  indiscreet  as  to  tell, 
Miss  Smith." 

"But  you  might  look  about  you  until 
you  see  a  girl  who  acts  as  though  she 
thought  she  was  beautiful." 

"I  could  not  do  that.  I  admire  you  too 
much  to  turn  my  eyes  in  any  other  direc 
tion." 

"There  you  go  again,"  blushed  Phoebe, 
"what  shall  I  do  to  you?" 

"You  might  tell  me  where  you  got  that 
lovely  gown." 

"Do  you  like  it?  I  'm  so  glad,"  she  said, 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  pleased 
smile. 

"Yes,  it  suits  you  exactly.  There  isn't 
one  girl  in  a  hundred  who  knows  how  to 
dress.  Now  that  combination  of  color,  Nile 
green  and  saffron,  it  is  quite  original.  And 
the  way  it  is  made,  too,  that  sash  across 
the  shoulder,  those  roses  just  in  the  right 
place,  and  the  simple  accordion-plaited 
skirt;  nothing  could  be  more  charming." 

"What  a  lot  you  know  about  clothes, 
Mr.  Maitland,"  said  Phoebe  admiringly. 

"Yes,  I  have  often  thought  of  setting  up 
as  a  rival  to  Worth  and  Doucet." 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          163 

"Why  don't  you?  I  will  come  to  you 
for  all  my  dresses. ' ' 

"That  is  indeed  an  inducement.  But, 
joking  aside,  a  girl  who  does  not  dress  well 
does  n't  do  anything  else  well.  Now,  look 
at  yourself  for  instance.  It  must  be  a  satis 
faction  to  feel  that  you  have  on  the  pret 
tiest  dress  in  the  room,  and  that  people  are 
looking  at  you  and  talking  about  you." 

"Aren't  you  taking  a  great  deal  for 
granted,  Mr.  Maitland?  I  don't  believe  a 
soul  is  looking  at  me." 

"I  am  looking  at  you,  Miss  Smith,  but 
perhaps  you  would  not  care  to  count  so 
humble  a  person  among  your  admirers." 

"I  believe  you  're  making  fun  of  me," 
said  Phoebe  peevishly. 

"I,  Miss   Smith?     On   the  contrary  I  am 
serious.      Really,  I    dare   not   tell   you  how 
serious  I  am." 
..     She  looked  up  into  his  eyes. 

"You  ought  to  be  more  charitable  than 
to  look  at  me  like  that,"  he  said  softly. 
"It  is  cruel." 

Phoebe  blushed,  and  turned  her  eyes 
away. 

"You  are  such  a  funny  man,"  she  said. 


164         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

''Here's  Phoebe  now,"  said  a  voice  at 
his  elbow.  It  was  the  Honorable  Silas 
Smith.  Mrs.  Smith  was  with  him. 

"We  've  been  looking  everywhere  for 
you,  Phoebe,"  said  Mrs.  Smith,  "your 
father  wants  to  go  home." 

"Oh  not  yet,  mamma!  I  'm  having 
such  a  nice  time,"  protested  Phoebe. 

"Your  daughter  has  been  very  kind  to 
me,  Mrs.  Smith,"  said  Maitland.  "I  came 
here  expecting  to  be  bored,  and  I  do  n't 
know  when  I  have  been  so  entertained.' 

"Are  you  coming  or  not?"  asked  the 
Senator  petulantly. 

"Don't  be  so  impatient,  dear,"  an 
swered  his  wife,  "of  course  we  are  coming. 
Good-night,  Mr.  Maitland,"  she  added, 
turning  toward  Ritchie.  "I  wonder  if  you 
could  be  persuaded  to  take  a  quiet  family 
dinner  with  us  to-morrow — we  might  go  to 
the  theatre  afterward,,  but  of  course  you 
have  an  engagement,  you  are  so  popular." 

"You  embarrass  me,  Mrs.  Smith,  for  I 
have  no  engagement.  If  I  may,  I  should 
be  delighted  to  come." 

"Then  shall  we  say  seven,  so  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  time  to  get  to  the  play?" 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          165 

" Thank  you,"  he  said,  taking  her  prof 
fered  hand. 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Maitland,"  chirped 
Phoebe. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Smith;  remember  I 
am  terribly  in  earnest,"  he  whispered  as  he 
pressed  her  little  hand. 

"Mr.  Maitland  has  been  so  amusing, 
mamma,"  Phoebe  said  as  she  struggled 
through  the  crowd.  "I  think  he 's  just 
lovely.  I  like  him  so  much." 

"Yes,  he  is  such  a  gentleman,"  said  her 
mother.  "He  has  such  charming  man 
ners." 

Maitland  watched  Phoebe's  disappearing 
form  until  it  was  lost  in  the  crowd.  She 
might  not  be  so  bad,  he  thought,  if  she 
only  knew  how  to  dress,  and  was  n't  such 
a  gullible  little  fool. 

General  Lloyd  passed  him.  "How  are 
you,  Maitland?"  he  said  with  a  nod  and  a 
smile.  "Terrible  crush,  isn't  it?" 

Maitland  was  suspicious  of  this  sudden 
change  of  manner — could  Violet  have  ac 
complished  that,  too,  he  wondered.  He 
stopped  to  talk  with  the  Junior  Senator 
from  his  state.  Maitland  had  the  gift  of 


i66          THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

reverence.  He  knew  how  to  make  the  ex 
alted  talk  about  themselves,  and  how  to 
betray  appreciative  interest.  He  was  a 
good  listener  and  he  never  failed  to  bestow 
well-tempered  praise  at  the  moments  when 
praise  was  expected.  He  never  expressed 
his  own  opinions  in  the  presence  of  the 
great,  so  he  had  won  the  good  opinion  of 
many  a  statesman  in  whom  vanity  outbal 
anced  perspicacity. 

"I  tell  you,  Maitland, "  said  the  Senator, 
"the  President  will  not  make  the  London 
appointment  without  consulting  me.  He 
has  as  good  as  promised  the  place  to  me 
and  you  're  as  good  as  in  it." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  Maitland  humbly, 
"if  I  receive  the  appointment  I  shall  owe 
it  entirely  to  you.  You  know  I  am  on  the 
outside  and  I  hear  what  is  going  on.  It  is 
common  gossip  that  you  are  closer  to  the 
President's  ear  than  any  man  in  the  Senate. 
Without  your  help — " 

"There,  there,  my  dear  boy,  it  's  all 
right,  I  tell  you.  I  like  you;  you're  a 
good  fellow  and  I  like  to  help  you." 

"I  was  very  much  interested,  Senator," 
said  Maitland,  "reading  this  morning  an 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          167 

account  of  the  bill  for  the  encouragement 
and  development  of  the  American  draft 
horse,  you  have  just  introduced.  It  seems 
to  me  that  such  a  bill,  should  it  pass,  would 
revolutionize  the  horse-breeding  industry. 
It  has  long  been  needed." 

"You  're  right,  sir,  it  will,"  replied  the 
Senator  with  an  emphasis  calculated  to  ac 
centuate  his  senatorial  dignity.  "Do  you 
know  that  under  existing  conditions  the 
domestic  breeder  has  no  chance  whatever  of 
competing  with  his  European  rival.  Unless 
we  place  a  bounty  on  draft  horses  such  a 
thing  as  an  American-bred  Percheron  will 
be  unknown  in  ten  years.  It  's  a  shame,  a 
disgrace,"  and  so  the  Senator  rambled  on 
for  fully  fifteen  minutes,  much  to  the  an- 
noyment  of  Maitland,  who  had  no  more 
interest  in  American  draft-horses  than  he 
had  in  domestic  flies,  but  he  never  failed  to 
inject  a  remark  of  appreciation  or  wonder 
ment  whenever  the  Senator  paused  at  the 
end  of  an  impressive  sentence. 

When  they  parted  the  Junior  Senator 
from  Delaware  grasped  Maitland  warmly  by 
the  hand  and  said:  "I  '11  see  the  President 
to-morrow.  This  New  York  fellow  changes 


i68          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

the  situation.  There  is  a  fight  on,  but 
we'll  win,  my  boy;  we'll  win.  I  have 
made  it  a  personal  matter,  depend  on 
me." 

Maitland  expressed  well  worded  and  well 
modulated  gratitude;  then  as  the  Senator 
walked  away  he  turned  and  glanced  about 
him  searching  the  faces  of  the  crowd  for 
some  one  else  whom  a  judicious  word  or 
two  might  turn  to  his  advantage.  He 
could  not  help  thinking  again  of  his  talk 
with  Mrs.  Cortland,  and  the  fool  he  had 
made  of  himself  by  betraying  his  own  feel 
ings. 

"Hello!  Ritchie,"  said  a  voice  of  nasal 
harshness  at  his  elbow.  "I  've  been  look 
ing  everywhere  for  you ;  was  just  going  to 
get  out  a  drag-net  and  a  search  warrant." 

"Hello!  Bertie,  what's  up?"  answered 
Maitland  anxiously.  "You  look  worried." 

"It's  too  bad,  old  fellow,  but  the 
game's  up,"  said  Bertie,  pressing  Mait 
land' s  hand  feelingly. 

"What!  Why  it  can't  be!"  exclaimed 
Maitland. 

"But  it  is,  my  dear  boy.  Politics  is 
wondrous  peculiar." 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          169 

"But  you  said  Lloyd  had  withdrawn  his 
opposition." 

"So  he  did." 

"And  Duncan  had  urged  my  appoint 
ment." 

"So  he  did." 

"And  the  Secretary  told  you  himself  he 
would  make  no  appointment  until  next 
week. ' ' 

"So  he  did." 

"Then  why  is  the  game  up?" 

"Because  the  papers  were  made  out  to 
day  with  Billy  Whiting's  name  on  them, 
and  they  go  to  the  Senate  in  the  morn 
ing." 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  Maitland.  "I 
can  't  understand  it." 

"No  more  can  I,"  said  Bertie  philo 
sophically.  "But  some  one  has  seen  the 
President  since  last  night.  Some  one  has 
induced  him  to  act  quickly.  Who  is  that 
some  one?" 

"General  Lloyd,"  said  Maitland  confi 
dently. 

"How  do  you  know." 

"By  the  way  he  smiled  at  me  to 
night." 


170          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Well,  I  admit  the  General  is  pretty 
slick.  But,  whoever  it  is,  the  jig  is  up; 
there  is  nothing  for  you  to  do  but  lie  low 
and  lay  for  something  else.  London  is  n't 
the  only  job  in  the  world." 

"Never  mind,  Bertie,  you  stood  by  me," 
Maitland  said,  shaking  Bertie's  hand  warmly. 
"I  shall  not  forget  that.  As  you  say, 
politics  'is  wondrous  peculiar  '." 

"And  you  're  too  old  a  cat  to  cry  over 
spilled  milk,"  answered  Bertie  in  a  cheer 
ing  tone.  "Let  's  go  to  the  club  and  have 
a  drink." 

Maitland  followed  Bertie  through  the 
crowd.  If  he  had  been  less  politic,  less  a 
man  of  the  world,  he  would  have  betrayed 
his  disappointment  more  keenly.  His 
fondest  hopes  were  shattered ;  his  deep  laid 
schemes,  the  work  of  months,  had  come  to 
naught;  but  he  bowed  and  smiled  at  his 
friends  as  he  passed,  and  even  stopped  to 
pay  a  compliment,  or  to  exchange  light 
shafts  of  badinage  with  such  women  as  Mrs. 
Love  and  Mrs.  Elliott.  At  one  moment  he 
hesitated.  He  was  on  the  point  of  appeal 
ing  to  Violet  with  the  hope  that  there  was 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          171 

yet  time  to  keep  his  rival's  name  from  go 
ing  before  the  Senate,  but  he  pressed  his 
lips  together  firmly  and  followed  Bertie 
Way.  It  was  not  his  nature  to  appeal:  to  a 
woman ;  to  plead  for  help. 


XII 

"I    DO   NOT   KNOW  WHAT   WITCHCRAFT'S   IN   HIM." 

Coriolanus,  IV.  7. 

Maitland's  coldness  at  the  White  House 
annoyed  Violet.  She  had  looked  forward 
to  meeting  him  after  her  duties  were  fin 
ished,  but  he  had  gone  home  without  a 
word  of  apology  or  regret.  It  was  not  like 
Ritchie,  she  thought.  He  had  never  since 
the  first  hour  of  their  acquaintance  left 
without  saying  good-night.  She  went 
home  disappointed.  Count  Joam  de  Al 
buquerque,  with  old-world  punctilious 
ness,  placed  her  in  her  carriage,  and  she 
forgot  to  thank  him — an  unpardonable 
breach  for  one  so  thoughtful  as  Violet.  It 
was  but  a  step  across  the  square  to  her 
house,  but  during  the  momentary  drive  she 
tried  to  explain  Ritchie's  conduct.  It  was 
only  yesterday  that  he  had  told  her  of  his 
love.  Yet,  at  Komlossy's  dinner  and  at 
the  White  House  he  had  avoided  her. 
What  did  it  mean?  He  could  not  know 
172 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          173 

that  she  had  opposed  his  appointment; 
there  had  not  been  time.  She  reached  the 
house  without  having  found  a  satisfactory 
solution  to  her  quandary. 

Her  father  was  in  the  library,  working  as 
usual.  He  had  stolen  away  from  the  White 
House  early — to  snatch  a  few  more  mo 
ments  for  the  toils  of  office.  There  were 
few  Cabinet  officers  as  conscientious  as 
he;  society  played  a  meagre  role  in  his 
career. 

"Well,  Violet,  back  already?"  he  said, 
glancing  up  from  his  desk.  "Isn't  this 
early  for  you?  I  've  only  just  come  in  my 
self." 

"I  was  tired  and  bored,"  Violet  an 
swered,  stifling  a  yawn.  "I  do  n't  know  of 
anything  I  hate  so  much  as  standing  up  in 
line,  and  shaking  hands  with  a  horde  of 
people  I  never  expect  to  meet  again." 

"Being  in  office  is  not  what  it  is  cracked 
up  to  be,  is  it,  Violet?" 

"No,  but  it  is  better  than  being  out  of 
office.  At  least  that  was  the  way  I  used 
to  feel  when  I  was  hoping  you  would  be 
appointed." 

"By  the  way,  speaking  of  office,"  said 


174          THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

the  Secretary,  "your  friend  Maitland's 
hopes  are  blasted.  The  Secretary  of  State 
told  me  to-night  that  Whiting's  appoint 
ment  is  going  to  the  Senate  in  the  morning, 
unless  I  continued  my  opposition." 

Violet'  was  startled.  She  had  not  ex 
pected  this  news  so  soon.  "Did  you  with 
draw  your  opposition?"  she  asked  anx 
iously. 

"I  said  that,  while  continuing  my  sup 
port  of  Maitland,  I  would  not  go  to  the  ex 
tent  of  opposing  further  an  appointment 
which  was  evidently  his  wish.  It  would 
have  been  undignified  for  me  to  change 
front  completely." 

"Yes,  Pater,  I  am  glad  you  did  it  that 
way,"  Violet  answered  hastily.  "Ritchie 
will  never  know  now,"  she  thought. 
"General  Lloyd  will  never  tell." 

Secretary  Duncan  scrutinized  his  daugh 
ter  carefully.  "Are  you  quite  sure,"  he 
asked  after  a  moment,  "that  you  did  not 
wish  Mr.  Maitland  appointed?  You  were 
so  anxious  at  first." 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  sure,"  said  Violet 
cheerfully,  "and  I  shall  never  meddle  with 
appointments  again." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          175 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?"  he  an 
swered  with  a  malicious  smile. 

"You  bad  Pater,"  she  said  with  a  reprov 
ing  frown.  "Did  I  ever  ask  you  to  help 
any  one  but  just  this  once,  and  then  I 
changed  my  mind." 

"Next  time  change  your  mind  before 
you  make  me  go  tramping  up  to  the  White 
House." 

"Good-night,  cross  patch,"  she  an 
swered,  with  a  petulant  toss  of  her  head. 
Then  she  kissed  him  and  ran  hurriedly  out 
of  the  room. 

There  were  some  letters  for  her  on  the 
hall  table.  One  bore  the  postmark  "Fort 
Riley,  Kansas."  It  was  from  Jack  Hardy. 
She  took  it  up  hurriedly.  ' '  Dear  old  Jack, ' ' 
she  exclaimed.  "He  never  forgets  me." 
Without  breaking  the  seal  of  Hardy's  let 
ter,  she  went  to  her  room.  When  she  had 
taken  off  her  dress,  and  made  herself  com 
fortable,  she  settled  herself  in  her  favorite 
chair  and  opened  the  letter. 

But  she  did  not  begin  reading  immedi 
ately.  Unfolding  the  sheets,  she  smoothed 
them  out  carefully  on  her  lap. 

Did  Ritchie  know  that  she  had  used  her 


iy6 ..       THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

» 

influence  to  help  his  rival?  That  was  the 
question  over  which  she  was  pondering. 
She  was  ashamed  of  her  conduct,  ashamed 
of  having  done  anything  so  underhand. 
She  longed  to  go  to  him  and  ask  forgive 
ness.  A  foolish  whim  had  perhaps  ruined 
his  future.  What  reason  had  she  for  doubt 
ing  him?  He  had  been  honest  and  frank; 
he  had  told  her  that  he  cared  more  for  her 
than  for  any  woman  in  the  world.  What 
had  she  done  in  return?  Acted  against 
him — defeated  him.  And  why?  Merely 
because  of  her  fear  that  perhaps  he  loved 
her  for  what  she  could  do  for  him — an  un 
worthy,  unjustifiable  fear,  of  which  she  was 
heartily  ashamed. 

Shetookup  Jack's  letter  and  began  to  read. 

It  was  a  simple,  straightforward  account 
of  his  life  at  Riley — his  new  duties — the 
gossip  of  the  garrison — his  new  friends. 
Mrs.  Simpkins,  his  captain's  wife,  had  been 
very  kind  to  him,  having  enrolled  him 
among  the  favored  young  men  she  called 
her  "children."  She  was  young  and  very 
pretty — a  superb  horsewoman.  When  she 
went  riding,  she  was  always  followed  by 
several  of  her  "children."  She  hated 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS     .     177 

Riley,  and  every  post  west  of  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  and  she  was  moving  heaven  and 
earth  to  get  a  diplomatic  appointment  for 
her  husband.  But  she  made  the  mistake 
of  talking  about  it  too  much. 

Violet  pictured  this  woman  to  herself — a 
silly  garrison  flirt — just  the  kind  to  turn  the 
heads  of  young  subalterns,  and  make  a  fool 
of  a  simple,  honest  fellow(  like  Jack. 

She  found  herself  hating  this  woman — 
this  Mrs.  Simpkins,  with  her  troop  of  "chil 
dren."  Then  she  laughed.  How  foolish! 
"If  she  can  make  Jack  forget  me,  I  ought 
to  be  very  grateful  to  her."  But  it  is  diffi 
cult  for  a  woman  to  forgive  the  one  who 
supplants  her  in  the  affection  of  even  a  dis 
carded  lover. 

Violet  continued  reading.  Riley  was 
active  enough,  and  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  work  to  be  done,  but  it  was  too  civilized ; 
he  longed  to  go  campaigning  again;  he 
wished  there  w-sre  hostilities  somewhere, 
with  real  soldiering  to  be  done. 

The  same  old  Jack,  she  thought.  Still 
longing  for  the  impossible;  still  tilting 
against  the  windmills  of  civilization.  If 
he  would  only  marry  some  nice  girl ;  some 


178         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

girl  like — she  hesitated.  No,  she  did  not 
care  to  think  of  Jack  as  a  married  man. 
She  was  jealous  of  this  possible  wife — a  dog- 
in-the-manger  sort  of  jealousy,  she  thought, 
utterly  absurd  and  unjustifiable. 

She  read  on  until  she  reached  the  closing 
sentence. 

"Violet,  dear,"  it  ran,  "wherever  you 
are,  whatever  you  are  doing,  I  want  you  to 
feel  that  I  believe  in  you — that  I  worship 
you.  You  are  the  best  friend  a  man  ever 
had  and  I  had  no  right  to  expect  that  you 
could  be  more  than  a  friend.  Please  for 
give  me  for  loving  you — I  could  not  help  it 
— I  know  that  I  shall  love  you  always. 

JACK." 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes.  She  folded 
the  letter  carefully  and  replaced  it  in  the 
envelope.  She  was  thinking  of  the  mo 
ment  when  she  had  said  to  him,  "I  am  not 
like  other  women,  I  am  colder,  more  unim 
pressionable.  I  think  I  care  for  you  more 
than  I  care  for  any  man — more  than  I  have 
ever  cared." 

How  little  a  girl  knows  of  her  own  self, 
she  thought.  She  saw  the  desperate,  de 
termined  look  in  Jack's  eyes  when  he  said, 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          179 

"I  could  not  marry  you,  Violet,  not  when 
you  look  at  me  like  that." 

He  realized  that  love  was  something 
more  than  mere  affection  and  pity.  There 
had  been  affection  and  pity  in  her  heart 
that  day,  but  there  had  been  no  quicken 
ing  of  the  pulses  at  the  touch  of  his  lips. 
She  thought  of  Ritchie  Maitland.  Did  she 
love  him?  Did  she  respect  him?  She 
shuddered.  "No!  No!"  she  cried,  "a 
thousand  times  no!  I  do  not  love  him.  I 
doubt  him.  I  have  always  doubted  him. 
He  fascinates  me.  He  charms  me.  I  love 
to  look  into  his  eyes.  I  love  to  hear  his 
voice,  but  I  am  afraid  of  him — afraid  of  the 
power  he  has  over  me." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
tried  to  think  more  clearly.  "If  I  marry 
that  man,  I  shall  be  made  wretched  for  life. 
He  does  not  ring  true.  I  know  it  as  surely 
as  I  know  anything.  Why  can  't  I  control 
myself  when  I  am  with  him — why  can  't  I 
think  clearly  as  I  do  now?" 

Violet's  thoughts  were  the  analysis  of  her 
feelings.  She  did  not  love  Ritchie  Mait 
land  as  a  woman  should  love  the  man  she 
intends  to  marry.  There  was  always  some- 


i8o         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

thing  which  held  her  back — something 
which  stifled  love;  it  was  mistrust.  In  her 
calmer  thoughts,  Ritchie  Maitland  had 
never  ceased  to  be  the  magnetic  counterfeit 
she  once  thought  him — the  selfish,  design 
ing  Casal  of  Bourget's  novel,  whose  power 
lay  in  his  boldness,  in  his  gentle,  insinuating 
manner;  in  those  mysterious  eyes  she  could 
never  read.  When  she  was  with  him,  she 
felt  like  a  helpless  bird  charmed  by  a  beau 
tiful  reptile,  who  would  some  day  coil 
about  her  and  crush  her.  The  feeling  she 
had  for  Jack  Hardy  was  more  nearly  what 
love  should  be,  but  it  lacked  the  pulse 
beats.  Those  were  for  Ritchie  Maitland. 
When  he  entered  a  room  she  knew  it  in 
stinctively,  though  her  back  was  turned ;  if 
he  did  not  come  to  her  immediately,  she 
became  impatient  and  preoccupied ;  she  be 
grudged  the  moments  he  spent  with  others. 
He  exerted  a  curious  power  over  her,  and 
what  was  worse,  she  felt  that  he  realized 
the  strength  of  his  magnetism. 

Her  sudden  resolution  to  defeat  his  ap 
pointment,  and  test  the  sincerity  of  his 
affection  was  a  wild,  ill-considered  attempt 
to  free  herself  from  his  influence.  She 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          181 

wished  to  drag  aside  the  mask,  and  prove 
to  herself  conclusively  the  character  of  the 
man.  She  forgot  for  the  moment  the  light 
in  which  her  action  placed  her.  When  she 
realised  that  she  had  voluntarily  espoused 
his  cause,  and  then  suddenly  used  her  in 
fluence  to  defeat  his  appointment,  she  could 
not  find  terms  too  bitter  for  the  condemna 
tion  of  her  conduct.  She  was  the  culprit — 
the  one  who  had  resorted  to  duplicity — with 
no  more  reason  than  mere  suspicion.  But 
should  her  suspicions  prove  true,  should 
she  demonstrate  conclusively,  that  Ritchie 
Maitland  had  found  in  her  the  means  of 
securing  her  father's  support?  She  dared 
not  think  how  she  should  feel  if  that  were 
true — and  she  dared  not  change  her  course, 
cowardly  as  it  might  be,  until  she  had 
learned  the  truth. 

But  Violet  was  not  in  love  with  Ritchie 
Maitland ;  she  was  merely  dangerously  near 
the  point  where,  forgetting  her  fears,  for 
getting  her  ideals,  she  might  succumb  to 
the  sort  of  witchcraft  which  many  another 
woman  has  mistaken  for  love,  only  to  real 
ise  in  after  moments  that  it  was  merely 
fascination. 


XIII 

"ANOTHER   EMBASSY." 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  III.  j. 

There  was  a  small  cotillon  at  the  Polish 
embassy  the  evening  following  the  White 
House  reception.  It  was  not  an  official 
crush,  for  society  at  large  was  pacified  by 
the  annual  embassy  ball;  on  the  contrary, 
the  list  had  been  kept  small,  and  in  conse 
quence  there  were  many  heart-burnings. 

Poniaminski  was  in  his  element.  He  was 
merely  the  second  secretary,  but  in  the  case 
of  a  social  function,  he  was  the  autocrat,  in 
whose  hands  was  placed  the  destiny  of  Po 
land.  It  is  true,  the  dignified  ambassador 
and  his  dumpy  wife  received  the  guests  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  but  their  duties 
ceased  with  that  perfunctory  ceremony. 
All  else  was  Poniaminski.  Even  the  fierce- 
looking  chancellor,  at  whose  frown  the 
young  attaches  trembled,  acknowledging 
his  inferiority,  was  content  to  strut  about 
with  the  cross  of  Saint  Stanislas  around  his 
182 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          183 

neck,  and  a  string  of  minor  baubles  dangling 
"en  brochette,"  and  leave  the  details  of  the 
occasion  to  the  ubiquitous  second  secretary. 

Poniaminski  had  done  everything.  He 
had  stationed  the  gorgeous  flunkies  at  their 
posts;  he  had  chosen  the  supper  menu, 
superintended  the  cooling  of  the  cham 
pagne,  selected  the  favors,  arranged  the 
flowers,  discussed  the  musical  selections 
with  the  leader  of  the  band,  and  directed 
the  waxing  of  the  floor;  in  fact,  he  had 
stepped  boldly  into  the  breach,  and  saved 
the  day  for  Poland.  What  sort  of  a  dance 
would  the  ambassador  and  chancellor  give 
if  left  to  themselves?  He  shuddered  at  the 
thought. 

Now  that  every  detail  was  complete,  and 
the  elect  of  Washington  were  streaming  up 
the  stairs  between  two  lines  of  sombre 
footmen  in  gala  liveries,  Poniaminski  found 
that  his  duties  were  but  commencing.  The 
ambassador,  with  increasing  age,  was  losing 
his  memory  for  faces,  and  his  wife  spoke  no 
English  and  very  bad  French,  so  that  upon 
the  second  secretary  devolved  the  duty  of 
mingling  among  the  guests,  and  dispersing 
those  little  phrases  of  personal  compliment, 


184         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

so  meaningless  in  themselves  but  so  neces 
sary  to  the  success  of  an  entertainment. 

"You  look  worried,  'Pony,'  "  said  Mrs. 
Jack  Elliott,  as  the  little  Pole  approached 
her. 

"Worried,  Madame.  Je  suis  demote. 
There  is  nothing  left  of  me." 

"Of  course  you  did  it  all,"  said  Mrs. 
Elliott  admiringly.  "There  is  no  one  else 
in  the  embassy  capable  of  organizing  such 
a  success." 

"I  have  only  done  what  others  have 
refused  to  do." 

"Come,  now,  confess,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Elliott.  "You  have  only  done  what  others 
could  not  do.  Why,  the  ambassador  is  an 
old  fossil." 

"He  is  my  chief,  Madame,"  said  Ponia- 
minski,  with  an  expostulatory  gesture. 

"And  his  wife,"  continued  Mrs.  Elliott, 
leaning  toward  him  and  whispering.  " Elle 
est  cuisiniere  malgre'  elle. 

"Ah,  Madame,"  said  Poniaminski,  rais 
ing  his  harids  in  horror.  "How  can  you 
say  such  things."  But  the  horror  was  per 
functory;  Poniaminski  relished  the  com- 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          185 

parison ;  he  had  no  love  for  the  wife  of  his 
chief,  and  Mrs.  Elliott  knew  it. 

"Come,  confess,  you  believe  it,  too," 
she  said. 

"Never!"  answered  the  little  Pole.  "I 
am  going  away.  I  cannot  even  listen  to 
such  treason." 

"Then  be  sure  and  save  me  a  good  seat. 
I  'm  going  to  dance  with  Captain  Sharp." 

"What,  after  all  those  calumnies?" 

"Certainly.  You  heard  what  I  said 
about  your  chief.  I  '11  say  worse  things 
about  you  if  you  do  n't  give  me  the  best 
seat  in  the  room." 

"In  that  case  it  shall  be  yours,  even  if 
the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State  has  to  sit 
on  the  floor." 

With  a  nod  of  farewell,  he  stepped  away, 
and  in  a  moment  was  pouring  polite  plati 
tudes  into  the  ear  of  that  helpmate  of  the 
State  Department,  whose  dignity  he  had 
just  grossly  offended. 

Mrs.  Elliott  turned  away.  She  did  not 
wish  to  accentuate  the  fact  that  she  was  left 
alone,  so  she  walked  toward  Mrs.  Love, 
who,  for  the  moment,  was  in  the  same  pre 
dicament. 


i86          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"I  came  all  the  way  across  the  room  to 
tell  you  how  much  I  admire  your  gown," 
said  Mrs.  Elliott. 

"You  dear  thing,  I  'm  so  glad  you  like 
it." 

"It's  perfectly  lovely.  Worth,  of 
course." 

"No,  Paquin." 

"Oh,  look!"  said  Mrs.  Elliott  suddenly, 
pressing  Mrs.  Love's  hand.  "There  comes 
Ritchie  Maitland,  as  unconcerned  as  though 
nothing  had  happened ;  you  know  he  failed 
to  get  his  appointment." 

"No— did  he?" 

"Yes.  Young  Whiting's  name  went  to 
the  Senate  to-day." 

"Well,  I  must  say  I  'm  glad  of  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Love  with  emphasis. 

"You  ought  to  be  sorry  for  the  poor  fel 
low.  You  know  he  's  a  pauper.  What  will 
he  do  now?" 

"Marry  Phoebe  Smith." 

"She  would  n't  have  him." 

"She  might;  that  girl  is  foolish  enough 
to  do  anything." 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think  about  it?" 
said  Mrs.  Elliott,  in  a  confidential  whisper. 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          187 

"I  think  Violet  Duncan  is  head  over  heels 
in  love  with  Ritchie  Maitland." 

"Nonsense.      I  do  n't  believe  it." 

"Just  watch  her." 

"And  he?" 

"Doesn't  care  a  straw  for  her  or  any 
other  woman.  He  's  too  utterly  selfish  to 
care  for  any  one  but  himself." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  liked  him,"  ex 
postulated  Mrs.  Love. 

"So  I  do,  but  that  doesn't  prevent  my 
understanding  him,  does  it?" 

But  a  pretty  woman  like  Mrs.  Elliott 
cannot  be  left  alone  for  many  minutes. 
Already  Count  Joam  de  Albuquerque  and 
a  young  ensign  were  approaching  from  op 
posite  directions.  The  ensign  being  the 
nimbler  of  the  two  captured  Mrs.  Elliott, 
and  the  Portuguese  was  left  with  no  alter 
native  but  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Love. 

Violet  was  talking  with  General  Lloyd 
when  Maitland  entered  the  room.  Her 
back  was  toward  the  door,  but  instinctively 
she  turned  her  head.  Their  eyes  met ;  she 
nodded,  and  he  returned  the  greeting  rather 
coldly,  she  thought. 

"I  suppose  you  have  heard   that  your  in- 


1 88          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

structions  have  been  carried  out,"  said  Gen 
eral  Lloyd. 

"I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Whiting's  name 
has  gone  to  the  Senate,  but  not  that  you 
were  responsible  for  the  appointment,"  said 
Violet  deliberately. 

"I  always  endeavor  to  have  my  efforts 
labeled  'not  for  publication.'  It  is  wiser, 
you  know." 

"Then  I  have  to  thank  you,"  she  said, 
with  an  attempt  at  appearing  indifferent. 

"Unless  you  already  regret  my  action," 
the  General  answered,  somewhat  pointedly. 

"Why  should  I?" 

"Because  it  is  a  woman's  privilege  to 
change  her  mind." 

"Well,  I  have  changed  my  mind,"  said 
Violet  suddenly.  "I  am  heartily  ashamed 
of  myself  for  acting  as  I  did.  I  intend  to 
tell  Mr.  Maitland  that  I  used  my  influence 
against  him,  and  ask  him  to  forgive  me." 

"Precious  little  good  your  death-bed 
repentance  will  do  after  the  deed  is  done," 
answered  the  General  coldly. 

"It  will  ease  my  conscience,"  said  Vio 
let. 

"My  dear    Miss    Duncan,  ex  post  facto 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          189 

conscience  is  either  the  fear  of  discovery, 
or  a  romantic  desire  for  pardon;  real  con 
science  is  a  restraining  power,  not  a  regret." 

"Then  you  think  I  am  either  a  coward  or 
a  fool,"  said  Violet  indignantly. 

"On  the  contrary.  I  think  you  are 
merely  over-sensitive.  Let  your  casuistry 
be  Jesuitical  when  the  subject  is  a  man.*' 

"And  you  would  advise?" 

"That  you  impress  Mr.  Maitland  with 
the  fact  that  you  did  everything  in  your 
power  to  secure  his  appointment." 

Violet  looked  at  General  Lloyd  perplex 
edly.  "Why  do  you  counsel  such  deceit?" 
she  asked. 

"That  is  where  the  Jesuitry  comes  in; 
you  will  learn  to  know  Mr.  Maitland  better 
that  way.  The  end  justifies  the  means." 

"The  last  time  I  saw  you,"  she  answered 
with  a  forced  laugh,  "you  wished  me  to 
break  my  heart.  Now  you  wish  me  to 
stifle  my  conscience.  What  is  the  next 
part  of  me  you  would  like  to  destroy?" 

"Your  faith  in  anything  in  the  shape  of 
man." 

-   „„   _ /^.,     the 


190          THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS 

General  answered  humorously,  "that  I  do 
not  need  the  faith  of  others." 

The  conversation  had  lost  its  serious  tone, 
and  Violet  turned  it  quickly  into  more 
frivolous  channels.  She  did  not  wish  him 
to  discuss  Ritchie  Maitland  further. 

General  Lloyd  affected  Violet  strangely. 
She  felt  drawn  toward  him  in  a  curious  man 
ner;  she  had  an  intuitive  feeling  that  he 
understood  her;  that  in  some  way  he  was 
to  influence  her  life.  When,  a  moment 
later,  Dick  Willing  led  her  toward  the 
ball-room,  she  turned  and  looked  at  him, 
and  tried  to  analyze  her  impressions.  His 
appearance  was  distinguished — of  that  there 
could  be  no  doubt.  He  had  the  bearing  of 
the  well-bred  New  Yorker — a  mingling  of 
confidence  and  suavity,  emphasized  by  irre 
proachable  dress,  and  the  manners  of 
esoteric  society.  His  straight,  command 
ing  figure  and  the  well  brushed  white  hair 
and  mustache,  contrasting  strongly  with  his 
florid  skin,  gave  him  the  unmistakable  ap 
pearance  of  a  military  man,  though  thirty 
years  had  passed  since  he  had  seen  service. 
But  he  had  a  sensuous  face,  with  cruel  eyes, 
and  his  cold,  penetrating  personality  was 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          191 

distasteful  to  Violet ;  his  character,  as  she 
understood  it,  was  repulsive. 

He  was  the  clever,  unscrupulous  "boss  " 
of  New  York  politics,  who,  by  repeatedly 
declining  office  for  himself,  and  never  fail 
ing  to  reward  a  friend  or  crush  an  enemy, 
had  become  the  idol  of  party  workers  and 
the  consternation  of  would-be  rivals.  So, 
in  spite  of  great  wealth  and  social  position, 
he  had  retained  his  power  beyond  the  ordi 
nary  time  allotment  of  a  political  career. 
But  his  private  life  was  not  above  reproach ; 
even  Violet  had  heard  vague  rumors  reflect 
ing  upon  the  treatment  of  his  wife.  She 
had  died  of  a  broken  heart  because  of  his 
attentions  to  a  well-known  actress.  It  was 
something  of  that  sort — but  such  aspersions 
count  for  little  in  the  cosmopolitan  world, 
and  a  man's  infidelity  means  little  to  a 
woman  unless  she  be  the  sufferer. 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  passed 
through  Violet's  mind  as  she  wandered 
toward  the  ball-room.  Soon  she  was  glid 
ing  among  the  throng  of  dancers,  but  she 
found  it  difficult  to  pay  attention  to  Dick 
Willing's  prattle.  Ritchie  Maitland  had 
not  yet  spoken  to  her;  in  spite  of  General 


192          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Lloyd's  casuistry,  her  conscience  still 
troubled  her. 

After  the  dance  was  finished,  Maitland 
came  toward  her.  He  spoke  to  her  in 
differently,  almost  coldly,  she  thought. 

"May  I  have  the  next  dance?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  faltered  turning  her  eyes 
away. 

"I  am  very  grateful  for  your  help,"  he 
said  suddenly.  "It  was  useless  though; 
the  game  is  up.  New  York  politics,  you 
know.  However,  you  did  the  best  you 
could,  you  were  a  true  friend." 

"Friend,  Ritchie!  Do  you  know  all  that 
I  did,"  she  asked  in  astonishment. 

"I  know  that  you  induced  your  father  to 
act  in  my  behalf,  and  that  General  Lloyd 
withdrew  his  opposition  the  day  before  the 
appointment  was  made.  You  could  not 
have  done  more,  could  you?  but  there  were 
stronger  influences  at  work  somewhere.  It 
was  not  to  be." 

"I  did  not  act  as  a  friend,"  she  said  sud 
denly,  looking  him  full  in  the  face. 

He  turned  his  eyes  away — "Please  do  n't 
talk  about  it  any  more, "  he  said.  "lam 
deeply  grateful,  believe  me  I  am,  but  it  is 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          193 

not  a  pleasant  topic  to  me  just  at  present, 
I  want  to  forget  about  it.  Come,  we  shall 
miss  this  dance." 

Violet  checked  the  confession  which  had 
been  on  her  lips.  She  knew  better  than  if 
she  had  been  told  in  words  that  Ritchie 
Maitland  was  assuming  a  new  role.  His 
manner  was  not  that  of  an  injured  man,  it 
was  cold  and  guarded ;  he  was  acting  on  the 
defensive ;  he  was  trying  to  establish  a  new 
kind  of  intimacy — a  sort  of  distant  familiar 
ity.  His  manner  chilled  her,  there  was  no 
thought  of  confession  now.  The  old  mis 
trust  had  returned,  and  anger  was  the 
dominant  feeling  in  her  heart. 

"I  'm  getting  too  old  for  dancing,"  said 
Maitland,  as  they  emerged  from  a  crowd  of 
waltzers. 

She  did  not  reply.  She  was  thinking  of 
another  time  when  she  had  danced  with 
him.  She  had  closed  her  eyes  then  as  they 
waltzed  to  enchanting  music,  and  in  the 
darkness  it  had  seemed  that  she  was  being 
carried  dreamily  on  toward  some  great  dan 
ger.  Now,  she  asked  herself  if  that  fear 
had  not  been  realised. 

"Why    are    you     so    quiet     to-night?" 


194          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Maitland  asked.  His  voice  was  almost 
tender. 

"I  do  n't  feel  like  talking.  I  have  noth 
ing  to  talk  about,"  she  said. 

"You  might  comfort  me  a  little  for  my 
failure.  You  have  n't  even  said  you  were 
sorry." 

"I  thought  the  subject  was  painful  to 
you,"  she  answered  coldly.  "You  said  so, 
at  least." 

He  laughed.  "Not  nearly  so  painful  as 
to  be  made  to  feel  that  I  am  so  very  far 
from  your  thoughts." 

They  had  stopped  dancing.  Violet 
turned  and  looked  at  Maitland.  She  was 
on  the  point  of  reproving  him  but  she 
checked  herself. 

"Did  you  find  Phoebe  Smith  amusing 
this  afternoon?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  very;  but  how  did  you  know  I 
was  there." 

"I  happened  to  see  you  going  up  the 
steps  with  a  flower  in  your  buttonhole,  and 
an  anxious  look  on  your  face." 

"Phoebe  is  a  nice  little  thing.  I  went 
there  to  ask  her  to  dance  the  cotillon  with 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          195 

me  to-night.  The  Smiths  have  gone  out  of 
their  way  to  be  kind  to  me  lately." 

"Are  you  always  kind  to  the  people  who 
are  kind  to  you,"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  and  cruel  to  those  who  are  cruel 
to  me,"  he  said  looking  into  her  eyes. 

"How  easily  you  must  be  led.  I  thought 
you  were  more  independent  than  that." 

"I  don't  believe  in  independence,"  he 
said;  "loyalty  is  my  motto." 

"To  whom?" 

"To  those  I  care  for." 

"It  should  not  be  difficult  to  be  loyal 
only  to  yourself." 

"How  very  sarcastic  we  are  to-night," 
said  Maitland  with  a  laugh.  "You  will 
force  me  to  a  declaration  of  independence 
if  you  are  going  to  treat  me  like  that.  How 
would  you  like  it  if  I  were  to  transfer  my 
allegiance  to  Phoebe  Smith?" 

"I  should  sympathize  with  Phoebe 
Smith,"  she  said  bitterly.  Then  pride  got 
the  mastery.  She  was  ashamed  of  having 
shown  such  feeling.  "I  should  sympathize 
with  her,"  she  added,  "because  I  should 
know  that  the  allegiance  was  merely  tern- 


196          THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

porary — I  have  too  much  faith  in  you  to 
believe  that  you  would  desert  a  friend." 

"Now,  you  are  talking  like  a  sensible 
girl,"  he  said.  "I  began  to  think  you  had 
forgotten." 

"Once  a  friend  always  a  friend,"  she  an 
swered.  Count  Joam  de  Albuquerque 
came  to  claim  a  dance.  "Will  you  come 
and  see  me  to-morrow?"  she  said  to  Mait- 
land,  cordially.  "I  shall  be  home  after 
five." 

"If  I  may,"  he  answered  as  she  was 
whirled  away  in  the  dizzy,  old-world  fashion 
by  the  Portuguese.  He  followed  her  with 
his  eyes.  "I  might  love  that  girl,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "if  I  only  dared,  but  beggars 
can  *t  afford  to  be  choosers  in  this  day  and 
generation." 

Then  he  turned  away  and  walked  toward 
Phoebe  Smith,  who  tried  to  look  uncon 
scious  when  she  saw  him  coming. 

The  cotillon  was  commencing.  Ponia- 
minski  led  with  dash  and  spirit,  throwing 
all  the  energy  of  his  fiery  little  self  into  the 
work.  Soon  he  had  maids  and  matrons, 
youths  and  antediluvians  romping  about 
the  ball-room  like  so  many  children  at  a 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          197 

May-day  festival.  Each  figure  was  original, 
and  there  were  continuous  surprises  in 
tended  to  put  people  in  good  humor  and 
make  them  forget  the  dignity  of  official 
dom.  Women  who  had  not  danced  for 
years  went  tearing  about  the  room  as  Ponia- 
minski  led  them  through  intricate  mazes  of 
tulle  and  ribbons.  They  had  only  come  as 
spectators,  but  when  nimble  senators  of 
sixty  dragged  them  out  on  the  floor,  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  the  occasion.  Dick  Willing 
looked  on  in  wonder;  he  was  the  recognized 
leader  of  cotillons,  but  the  little  Pole  was 
showing  him  a  pace  that  was  fairly  appal 
ling.  It  was  a  romp  pure  and  simple.  It 
is  surprising  how  quickly  dignity  can  be 
laid  aside  when  the  effort  is  spontaneous. 
But  at  the  stately  Polish  embassy  such  radi 
calism  was  startling.  The  Ambassador  and 
his  wife  were  in  dismay ;  but  when  they  saw 
the  Hungarian  minister  and  a  senator  on 
their  knees  at  the  same  time  bobbing  for 
apples,  and  laughing  like  schoolboys,  they 
made  up  their  minds  that  perhaps,  after  all, 
Poniaminski  knew  something  about  such 
matters. 


198         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Violet  forced  herself  into  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion.  She  was  always  on  the  floor, 
dancing  with  all  the  fervor  of  which  she  was 
capable ;  favors  were  showered  upon  her  by 
the  young  men  and  the  old ;  Dick  Willing 
beamed  contentedly,  for  it  was  always  a 
satisfaction  to  him  to  dance  with  the  belle 
of  the  ball.  Intuition  told  her  more  plainly 
than  words  that  Ritchie  Maitland  was  avoid 
ing  her.  He  favored  her  in  the  first  figure, 
and  once  when  he  happened  to  be  in  her 
end  of  the  room  he  took  her  out;  but 
everything  he  said  was  spoken  reservedly. 
He  alluded  to  their  friendship,  but  the 
word  "friendship  "  was  pronounced  with 
cold  deliberation. 

Violet  laughed  and  chatted  with  him,  and 
did  everything  in  her  power  to  prevent  his 
suspecting  that  she  read  his  thoughts.  She 
favored  him  herself,  just  to  be  able  to  tell 
him  that  she  had  never  had  such  a  good 
time  at  a  dance — and  to  tease  him  about 
Phoebe  Smith.  She  claimed,  as  a  confi 
dential  friend,  the  privilege  of  knowing  how 
his  suit  was  progressing.  Could  she  help  him 
by  speaking  a  word  in  his  favor  to  Phoebe? 
If  so,  he  might  command  her  services, 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          199 

Maitland  accepted  this  assumed  indiffer 
ence  gratefully.  He  was  afraid  he  had 
gone  so  far  in  his  spurious  love-making  that 
it  would  be  difficult  to  retire  gracefully. 
Whatever  her  feelings  were,  she  had  opened 
the  line  of  retreat  so  dexterously  that  he 
could  not  help  admiring  her  cleverness. 

Violet  went  to  supper  with  General 
Lloyd.  Mrs.  Cortland  and  Komlossy  were 
at  the  same  table.  Near  them  were  Mait 
land  and  Phoebe  Smith  at  a  little  table  h  deux. 

"Umph!"  said  the  Hungarian  when  he 
had  consumed  his  last  oyster.  "Having 
failed  as  a  place  hunter,  Ritchie  Maitland 
seems  to  have  become  a  wife  hunter." 

"He  will  find  the  one  quite  as  futile  as 
the  other,  I  fancy,"  said  General  Lloyd. 
"Mrs.  Smith  aspires  to  a  dukedom  at  least 
for  Phoebe." 

"I  can  't  see  why  Phoebe  should  not 
marry  him,"  said  Violet,  "can  you,  Mrs. 
Cortland?" 

Mrs.  Cortland  looked  at  Violet  keenly; 
she  was  trying  to  discover  whether  her  in 
difference  was  assumed. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "Phoebe  has 
money  enough  for  both." 


200         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"He  has  been  quite  attentive  to  her 
lately,"  Violet  continued.  "I  have  chaffed 
him  about  her  a  great  deal." 

"I  recommended  the  match  some  time 
ago,"  said  Komlossy.  "If  it  comes  off  I 
shall  claim  a  ten  per  cent,  commission." 

"Why  is  it  that  the  world  finds  fault  with 
a  man  who  marries  for  money?"  asked  Vio 
let.  "For  my  part,  I  think  the  poor  should 
marry  the  rich,  and  the  rich  the  poor;  it 
makes  a  more  equitable  distribution  of 
wealth." 

"That  is  reducing  marriage  to  a  business 
basis,"  answered  Mrs.  Cortland. 

"It  should  have  some  basis,  else  what  is 
the  use  of  it?"  Violet  replied.  "Love  is 
so  terribly  out  of  fashion  nowadays." 

"When  young  girls  become  cynics,"  in 
terrupted  General  Lloyd,  "it  is  time  for  us 
old  fellows  to  become  saints,  if  the  world  is 
to  be  saved  from  absolute  perdition.  Eh! 
Komlossy." 

"Bah!"  grunted  the  minister.  "A  saint 
has  a  feeble  mind,  and  a  cynic  a  weak  diges 
tion.  I  prefer  to  take  to  the  woods." 

"Before  you  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Cort 
land,  "please  tell  us  why  Miss  Duncan  is 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          201 

trying  to  marry  her  friend  Ritchie  Maitland 
to  Phoebe  Smith.  I  confess  I  cannot  un 
derstand  it." 

"Because  she  has  become  a  convert  to 
my  belief,  is  it  not,  Miss  Duncan?"  inter 
rupted  General  Lloyd. 

"Yes,  to  the  extent  of  becoming  a  Jes 
uit." 

"A  Jesuit!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cortland. 
"Explain." 

"We  Jesuits  never  explain,  we  merely 
dissimulate,"  answered  the  General. 

"And  you,  Violet,  have  you  accepted 
such  a  creed?"  asked  Mrs.  Cortland. 

"I  have  decided  that  dissimulation  is  a 
means  sometimes  justified  by  the  end." 

"Even  that  doctrine  could  not  justify 
the  placing  of  veal  in  this  terrapin,"  said 
Komlossy. 

"But  I  suppose  it  would  justify  Ritchie 
Maitland  in  making  love  to  Phoebe  Smith," 
said  Mrs.  Cortland  eyeing  Violet. 

"Mr.  Maitland  is  a  very  dear  friend  of 
mine.  I  wish  you  would  stop  attacking 
him,"  Violet  answered  coldly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you  to-night, 
Violet?"  asked  Mrs.  Cortland.  "You  've 


202          THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

had  a  chip  on  your  shoulder  the  entire 
evening." 

"Miss  Duncan  is  a  Jesuit  by  her  own 
confession,"  said  Komlossy.  "She  is 
merely  dissimulating — in  reality  she  is  in 
the  best  of  moods." 

"You  have  guessed  it,"  laughed  Violet. 
"Now  let  us  all  talk  about  the  weather. 
That  is  very  bad  to-night.  So  I  am  bound 
by  my  creed  to  take  a  cheerful  view  of  it." 

Criminals  and  lovers  have  the  common 
habit  of  seeking  concealment  in  boldness. 
They  imagine  that  indifference  and  bravado 
will  throw  the  inquisitous  off  the  scent. 
Maitland's  coolness  had  come  so  suddenly 
after  his  ardent  professions  of  two  days  be 
fore  that  Violet  was  stunned  as  by  a  sudden 
blow.  She  had  not  time  to  analyze  her 
own  feelings;  her  one  desire  was  to  hide 
from  him  and  from  the  world  the  fact  that 
he  was  uppermost  in  her  thoughts,  but  her 
efforts  were  so  forced  that  Mrs.  Cortland 
easily  suspected  the  truth.  She  pitied  Vio 
let,  but  she  was  hopeful  that  a  greater  dan 
ger — the  danger  of  being  united  for  life  to 
such  a  man — had  been  averted. 

General   Lloyd,   also,   with  his  keenness 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          203 

for  reading  human  nature,  understood  the 
situation.  He  had  besides  been  a  partial 
confidant,  and  an  important  actor  in  the 
events  of  the  last  few  days.  When  supper 
was  over  he  walked  with  Violet  back  to  the 
ball-room. 

"It  is  too  soon  to  begin  dancing,"  he 
said,  as  they  passed  through  an  ante-room 
where  there  was  a  divan  and  a  Moorish 
lantern  burning  dimly.  "Let  us  sit  here  a 
while." 

"Do  you  remember  what  I  told  you  at 
Komlossy's?"  he  said  when  they  had 
seated  themselves. 

"You  said  that  the  ways  of  women  were 
past  finding  out,"  she  replied. 

"Not  always.  There  are  times  when  one 
can  read  a  woman  more  clearly  than  a  book ; 
but  that  was  not  what  I  referred  to." 

"Ah!  I  remember  now,"  she  answered 
with  a  laugh.  "You  said  you  were  jealous 
of  Ritchie  Maitland." 

"I  was  jealous  of  him  then,  but  I  fear 
you  will  have  to  guess  again." 

"I  was  never  good  at  conundrums." 

"Well,  I  told  you,"  said  the  General 
lowering  his  voice,  "that  it  was  wise  for  a 


204         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

woman  to  get  over  being  in  love  before  she 
is  married." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  beginning  to  fall  in 
love?"  asked  Violet.  "Is  that  why  you 
proffer  this  advice?" 

General  Lloyd  looked  at  Violet.  "I 
think  you  are  beginning  to  get  over  being 
in  love,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Oh,  really!"  she  answered.  "I  sup 
pose  when  you  consider  the  process  finished 
you  will  advise  matrimony." 

"Exactly!"  said  the  General.  "Then 
you  will  be  able  to  appreciate  the  advan 
tages  of  a  judicious  marriage." 

"Well,  I  am  not  in  love,"  exclaimed  Vio 
let,  "and  I  don't  know  a  single  man  I 
should  be  willing  to  marry." 

"I  see  you  are  intent  upon  waiting  until 
your  heart  is  broken." 

"I  intend  waiting  until  I  find  the  man 
whom  I  can  love." 

"Man  proposes  and  God  disposes,  only 
sometimes  man  does  n't  propose." 

"You  are  not  complimentary,  to  say  the 
least,"  she  answered  indignantly. 

"Possibly  not,  but  I  am  very  obliging, 
especially  to  a  woman  I  admire  devoutly. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          205 

So,  if  you  need  my  help  in  any  of  your 
schemes,  you  may  count  upon  it.  You 
may  wish  to  be  revenged." 

Violet  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 
"You  are  certainly  talking  enigmas  to 
night.  I  do  n't  understand  you." 

"You  may  understand  me  better  before 
long.  A  great  deal  can  happen  in  a  few 
days.  Remember  you  have  in  me  a 
devoted  friend,  who  will  brave  fire  and 
water  and  the  President's  wrath  if  you 
wish  it." 

"I  thank  you,"  she  answered.  "But  I 
shall  not  meddle  with  politics  again." 

"Never  make  resolutions;  then  you  will 
be  saved  the  trouble  of  breaking  them. 

"What  a  cynical  person  you  arc,"  she  said 
looking  up  suddenly.  "Do  you  not  believe 
in  anything?" 

"I  believe  in  you." 

"In  me!     How  absurd." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  is  absurd  for  an  old 
fellow  like  me  to  believe  in  anything,  even 
a  beautiful  girl;  but  one  must  have  some 
idol,  and  my  idol  is  you."  He  said  this 
casually,  without  the  slightest  appearance 
of  seriousness. 


206          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Remember,  General,  idols  have  stone 
hearts,"  laughed  Violet. 

"In  that  case,  I  prefer  to  consider  you  a 
goddess,"  he  answered. 

"Most  of  the  goddesses  I  have  read  about 
had  very  unsavory  reputations." 

He  looked  at  her  intently.  "When  your 
own  idols  are  shattered,"  he  answered  earn 
estly,  "you  may  realise  that  being  the  god 
dess  of  a  fanatical  old  worshiper  is  not  a 
bad  fate." 

"The  music  is  commencing,"  said  Violet. 
"I  must  go  back  to  my  seat." 

General  Lloyd  frowned,  but  he  offered  no 
remonstrance. 


XV 

"THIS   PRIDE   OF   HERS." 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  III.  i. 

General  Lloyd  gave  a  luncheon  at  the 
Arlington  Golf  Club,  a  few  days  after  the 
cotillon  at  the  Polish  embassy.  He  had 
invited  a  large  party  to  play  foursomes  be 
fore  luncheon,  but  as  is  usual  on  such  occa 
sions,  some  did  not  arrive  on  time,  while 
others  did  not  feel  like  playing;  so  alto 
gether,  the  arrangements  were  considerably 
upset.  However,  four  matches  finally 
started  play  over  the  Arlington  downs, 
while  the  remainder  of  the  guests  broke  up 
into  parties  of  two,  to  wander  about  the 
links  or  chat  in  cosy  corners  at  the  club 
house. 

Ritchie  Maitland  had  been  somewhat  re 
sponsible  for  the  miscarriage  of  the  arrange 
ments.  He  and  Phoebe  Smith  were  to  ride 
out  on  wheels,  but  they  had  not  appeared 
an  hour  after  the  appointed  time. 

General  Lloyd,  owing  to  his  military 
207 


208          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

training,  was  a  man  of  precise  habits.  He 
found  it  difficult  to  pardon  the  tardiness  of 
others,  consequently  he  was  much  annoyed. 
He  had  arranged  that  Violet  and  he  should 
play  Maitland  and  Phoebe  Smith — in  fact, 
the  party  had  been  given  with  this  end  in 
view,  so  the  failure  of  his  little  scheme  put 
him  in  an  ill  humor  he  made  little  attempt 
to  conceal. 

Violet  and  he  followed  one  of  the  matches 
for  a  while.  It  was  a  clear  March  day,  but 
there  was  a  cold  wind  blowing  over  the  hills 
which  made  walking  uncomfortable.  But 
the  view  was  superb.  At  their  feet  was  the 
brown  Potomac,  winding  seaward,  and  be 
yond  were  the  white  houses  of  Georgetown 
and  Washington  sprinkled  upon  the  hillside, 
with  the  great  dome  of  the  Capitol  glisten 
ing  against  the  blue  sky,  while  scattered 
over  the  green  links  were  the  various  groups 
of  players — their  red  coats  glaring  in  the 
sunlight,  their  golf  'skirts  flapping  as  they 
struggled  against  the  wind.  But  even  the 
surroundings  could  not  make  conversation 
for  Violet  and  her  companion.  General 
Lloyd  had  planned  a  little  piece  of  strategy 
which  had  miscarried,  and  for  the  moment 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          209 

he  was  unable  to  conceal  his  disappoint 
ment,  while  Violet  was  lost  in  thought  over 
the  events  of  the  past  week. 

Maitland  had  called,  as  he  promised,  the 
day  following  the  embassy  cotillon,  but  the 
interview  had  been  short  and  unsatisfactory. 
They  had  both  talked  about  casual  matters, 
but  it  was  easy  for  her  to  discover  that  her 
premonitions  had  been  well  founded. 
Ritchie,  while  scrupulously  attentive  in  all 
the  little  amenities,  was  acting  on  the  de 
fensive.  He  avoided  skillfully  all  reference 
to  their  former  relations,  and  instead  of 
treating  her  as  the  woman  he  most  admired, 
or  even  as  a  friend,  he  had  assumed  an  at 
titude  of  casual,  almost  flippant  intimacy. 
Violet  was  a  girl  of  spirit.  Her  pride  was 
deeply  touched.  She  tried  to  convince  her 
self  that  Ritchie  Maitland  was  nothing  to 
her.  He  had  amused  her  during  a  rather 
dull  winter;  he  had  tried  to  make  use  of 
her,  but  she  had  outwitted  him — honors 
were  easy.  But  this  explanation  was  not 
satisfactory.  He  had  been  more  to  her 
than  any  one  else.  She  banished  the 
thought  with  an  effort.  Not  for  one  mo 
ment  would  she  admit  that  she  had  been  in 


210         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

love  with  Ritchie  Maitland.  Yet  try  as  she 
might  she  could  not  forget  that  afternoon 
when  he  had  told  her  of  his  love,  and  she 
had  almost  believed  him.  She  trembled 
when  she  thought  what  might  have  been 
the  consequences  had  she  been  less  sus 
picious,  less  master  of  herself. 

To  be  jilted  by  a  man  is  the  most  ignoble 
position  in  which  a  girl  can  be  placed.  She 
confessed  to  herself  that  it  was  by  the 
merest  chance  she  had  escaped  that  catas 
trophe.  Ritchie  Maitland  had  played  with 
her  affections  to  gain  his  own  ends.  What 
could  be  more  despicable? 

"You  do  n't  seem  very  talkative  to-day," 
said  General  Lloyd,  after  they  had  trudged 
together  in  silence  for  fully  five  minutes. 

"Is  it  my  fault  or  yours?"  asked  Violet. 
"You  have  been  too  cross  to  speak  to." 

"Your  evident  lack  of  interest  was 
enough  to  make  me  cross,"  he  answered 
rather  curtly. 

"I  was  thinking." 

"Some  new  political  scheme,  I  sup 
pose.  Have  you  a  friend  for  the  Danish 
mission?  Browning's  death  makes  a  fine 
opening." 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          211 

"You  must  n't  judge  every  one  by  your 
self;  politics  is  not  the  aim  of  every  one's 
ambition." 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  the  General.  "I  won't 
quarrel.  Life  is  too  short. " 

"Who  began  it?"  asked  Violet. 

"The  weather.  This  wind  is  enough  to 
put  any  one  in  a  bad  humor.  I  move  we 
go  back  to  the  club  and  get  thawed  out." 

"If  you  will  promise  to  amuse  me." 

"I  will  propose  to  you.  How  will  that 
do?" 

"That  would  be  very  stupid.  A  man  is 
so  foolish  when  he  is  proposing." 

"But  I  will  invent  a  new  way,"  expostu 
lated  the  General. 

"In  that  case  I  might  listen,  but  nothing 
more." 

"Not  even  a  word  of  encouragement? 
We  amateurs  need  to  be  encouraged." 

"You  always  talk  as  though  you  consid 
ered  yourself  a  professional  in  the  art  of 
winning  hearts.  I  am  surprised  you  ac 
knowledge  your  tyroism." 

"One  is  always  a  novice  at  that,"  an 
swered  the  General.  "Because  women's 
hearts  are  all  different." 


212          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Sort  of  Yale  locks,  I  suppose.  No  two 
keys  alike." 

And  so  they  talked  along  about  nothing 
in  particular  until  they  reached  the  club 
house.  A  huge  wood  fire  was  burning  in 
the  reading-room,  and  that,  combined  with 
a  warming  drink,  succeeded  at  last  in  dis 
pelling  the  blues  which  had  come  over  both 
General  Lloyd  and  Violet.  But  just  as 
they  had  begun  to  be  comfortable,  and  the 
General  thought  that  the  opportunity  was 
favorable  for  directing  the  conversation  into 
personal  channels,  word  came  to  him  that 
two  ladies  had  arrived  and  were  asking  for 
him.  They  proved  to  be  Mrs.  Love  and  Mrs. 
Elliott,  who  not  being  golfers  had  driven 
out  to  join  the  party  at  luncheon.  He 
went  to  meet  them,  and  Violet,  left  for  the 
moment  alone,  wandered  into  the  women's 
locker  room,  to  leave  a  jacket  in  her  locker. 
A  thin  partition  separated  this  apartment 
from  the  adjoining  room,  a  small  den  where 
two  or  three  people  could  talk  undisturbed. 

As  Violet  opened  her  locker  door,  she 
heard  voices  distinctly  through  the  par 
tition. 

"Why  do  you  doubt  me?" 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          213 

She  started.  The  speaker  was  Ritchie 
Maitland. 

"I  don't  doubt  you,  but  I  want  to  be 
quite  sure."  His  companion  was  Phoebe 
Smith.  Violet  drew  close  to  the  wall. 
The  thought  that  it  was  dishonorable  to 
listen  never  came  to  her.  She  was  think 
ing  only  of  Maitland's  perfidy. 

"I  love  you,  Phoebe.  I  want  you  to  be 
my  wife.  How  can  you  doubt  me  now?" 

Violet's  heart  sickened. 

"But  it  is  all  so  sudden.  How  can  I  be 
sure?  I  thought  you  cared  for  Violet  Dun 
can." 

"How  could  you  think  that?" 

"You  were  so  attentive  to  her  every  one 
thought  you  were  going  to  marry  her." 

"Marry  her,  Phoebe,  when  I  love  you?" 

"Don't,  Ritchie,  don't — not  now — tell 
me  first  if  you  are  quite  sure  you  do  n't  care 
for  her." 

"I  never  cared  for  her,  dearest;  I  never 
cared  for  her.  I  was  compelled  to  be  at 
tentive  to  her  in  a  way.  I  needed  her 
father's  help — that  was  all." 

Violet  felt  as  if  a  sudden  dagger-thrust 
pierced  her  heart. 


214         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Then  you  really  love  me." 
"Yes,  yes,  you,  only  you;  believe  me." 
"Oh,  Ritchie,  I  am  so  happy." 
Violet  could  hear  no  more.     She  felt  that 
if  she  stayed   she  must   shout  a  warning  to 
that  poor  little  creature  in  the  other  room. 
She  felt  she  must  denounce  that  treacherous 
man  to  the  whole  world.      She  ran  quickly 
out  of  the  house,  and  across  the  golf  course. 
She  wanted   to   be  alone  where  she  could 
think  clearly  and  realise  it  all. 

Anger,  humiliation,  the  desire  for  re 
venge — these  were  the  feelings  which  ani 
mated  her.  Ritchie's  words  merely  corrob 
orated  her  own  suspicions;  but  now  that 
she  had  heard  him  declare  with  his  own  lips 
his  love  for  another  woman,  and  deny  that 
he  had  ever  cared  for  her,  all  the  resent 
ment  and  passion  of  her  nature  were  aroused. 
She  hated  him  with  that  bitter,  rankling 
hatred  which  is  the  result  of  wounded  pride. 
She  longed  for  some  revenge,  some  means 
of  making  him  realise  his  meanness. 

When  she  was  out  of  sight  of  the  club 
house,  and  away  from  every  one,  she  began 
to  cry.  The  tears  were  a  relief  to  her  pent 
up  feelings.  When  she  finally  dried  her 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          215 

eyes,  and  began  to  think  more  calmly,  she 
felt  hardened  and  embittered.  Her  pride 
was  humiliated;  her  faith  in  human  nature 
was  shattered.  She  thought  of  the  world 
with  a  feeling  of  disgust;  she  had  grown 
older  in  an  hour. 

She  did  not  care  what  happened  to  her. 
Only  give  her  the  means  to  crush  Ritchie 
Maitland,  that  was  all  she  asked.  She  did 
not  wish  to  injure  him  literally,  but  to  make 
him  realise  the  sort  of  cur  that  he  was,  to 
make  him  despise  himself,  and  suffer  the 
remorse  that  his  contemptible  conduct 
ought  to  inspire.  If  there  were  only  some 
way  in  which  she  could  place  him  under  a 
great  obligation,  and  at  the  same  time  show 
him  her  absolute  contempt ;  some  way  in 
which  she  could  torture  him  into  a  realisa 
tion  of  his  own  baseness,  and  make  him 
suffer  shame. 

She  smiled  at  the  thought.  Such  a  man 
was  incapable  of  shame  or  remorse.  But 
there  must  be  some  way  to  place  him  in  an 
unenviable  position,  some  way  to  punish  him. 
Suddenly  an  idea  came  to  her.  The  Danish 
mission.  If  she  could  secure  that  post  for 
him — a  position  far  beyond  his  fondest 


216          THE   VICE    OF  FOOLS 

dreams — if  she  could  make  him  owe  success 
to  her,  and  at  the  same  time  let  him  know 
how  thoroughly  she  despised  him,  that 
might  be  a  revenge  so  refined  and  subtle 
that  even  Ritchie  Maitland  would  experi 
ence  shame. 

The  idea  was  pleasing.  General  Lloyd 
had  suggested  it.  He  would  brave  fire, 
water,  and  the  President's  wrath  for  her. 
His  influence  and  her  father's  united  would 
be  very  powerful.  She  resolved  to  make 
the  attempt.  Had  she  been  calmer,  she 
might  have  realised  that  such  a  man  as 
Ritchie  Maitland  would  merely  laugh  at  the 
agreeable  torture  she  had  planned,  and  ac 
cept  it  as  an  unexpected  windfall  of  luck. 
But  Violet  was  in  the  state  of  mind  when 
reason  had  fled,  and  pride  had  taken  full 
possession  of  her  heart. 


XV 

"ON   THE   DEBATING   A  MARRIAGE." 

Henry  VIII.,  II.  4. 

During  luncheon  Violet  was  the  life  of 
the  party.  She  chaffed  Ritchie  openly 
about  his  attentions  to  Phoebe  Smith,  until 
the  poor  girl  simpered  and  blushed  to  such 
a  degree  that  every  one  except  Violet  pitied 
her ;  she  flirted  with  General  Lloyd  as  well, 
and  lost  no  opportunity  of  impressing  the 
entire  party  with  the  idea  that  Ritchie 
Maitland  was  nothing  to  her.  This  gaiety 
was  forced,  however;  she  was  thinking  only 
of  revenge. 

After  luncheon  she  wandered  over  the 
golf  course  with  an  insipid  youth,  who 
made  silly  speeches  and  laughed  loudly  at 
his  own  vaporings.  Now  that  those  she 
wished  most  to  deceive  were  no  longer  pres 
ent,  her  forced  gaiety  relapsed,  and  her 
thoughts  wandered  far  from  her  companion. 
Vapid  youths  demand  appreciation,  or  at 
least  attention,  so  when,  in  due  time,  Gen- 
si? 


2i8          THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

eral  Lloyd  approached  her,  the  boy  fled, 
with  blushing  apologies  about  an  engage 
ment  which  did  not  exist,  and  Violet  was 
given  the  desired  opportunity  of  furthering 
her  plans. 

"I  was  just  thinking  about  you,  General 
Lloyd,"  she  said,  as  the  youth  disap 
peared. 

"I  am  grateful  for  a  place  in  your 
thoughts,  but  I  aspire  to  a  place  in  your 
heart,"  the  General  answered  suavely. 

"That  is  easy — the  rooms  in  my  heart  are 
all  to  let,  at  present." 

"Then,  I  speak  for  a  little  back  room 
somewhere,  so  modest  that  you  will  not 
consider  it  worth  while  to  turn  me  out." 

"If  you  wish  to  become  a  permanent 
boarder,  you  must  do  something  for  me — 
you  must  help  me." 

"And  if  I  help  you?" 

"I  shall  be  very  grateful." 

"The  surest  way  to  make  an  enemy  is  to 
oblige  a  friend." 

"In  this  particular  case  you  will  oblige 
an  enemy,"  said  Violet  laughing. 

"What  have  I  done  to  make  you  an 
enemy?"  he  asked. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          219 

"I  am  not  speaking  for  myself.  I  wish 
you  to  do  something  for  someone  else." 

He  looked  at  her  intently.  "It  is  as 
good  as  done,"  he  said  slowly.  "Mr. 
Maitland  will  be  appointed  Minister  to  Den 
mark. 

Violet  started  back  in  surprise.  "Are 
you  a  wizard?"  she  exclaimed. 

"No,  merely  a  man  of  the  world.  It 
amounts  to  the  same  thing  when  it  comes 
to  reading  a  woman's  thoughts.  You  may 
remember,  I  hinted  some  ago  that  you 
might  wish  to  be  revenged.  There  is  noth 
ing  like  putting  an  enemy  under  an  obliga 
tion." 

Violet  turned  her  eyes  away.  The  pene 
tration  of  the  man  frightened  her. 

"You  misunderstand  the  matter  com 
pletely,"  she  said  suddenly.  "I  do  not 
wish  an  appointment  for  Mr.  Maitland.  You 
must  remember  that  I  asked  you  to  oppose 
him  on  the  last  occasion." 

General  Lloyd  laughed.  "Your  face  is 
too  honest  for  an  intriguer." 

"I  do  not  wish  Mr.  Maitland  to  be  ap 
pointed,"  she  repeated  firmly. 

He  leaned  toward  her   and   spoke  very 


220         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

slowly.  "I  have  the  President's  promise 
that  I  may  name  the  Danish  minister.  It 
is  a  reward  for  my  service  in  supporting 
young  Whiting,  and  thus  settling  the  feud 
in  New  York." 

"It  is  very  generous  of  the  President." 

"I  am  generous  also.  Would  you  like  to 
name  the  candidate?  You  may  do  so  on 
one  condition." 

"And  that  condition  is?"  she  asked. 

"That  you  become  my  wife,"  he  an 
swered  with  scarcely  a  change  in  his  voice. 

Violet  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"I  am  in  earnest,"  he  said.  "I  once 
told  you  that  I  thought  it  wise  for  a  woman 
to  get  over  being  in  love  before  she  mar 
ried.  Marriage  is  a  partnership  for  mutual 
benefit;  love  is  a  disease." 

She  shuddered.  The  thought  came  to 
her  that  perhaps  his  cold-blooded  philosophy 
was  right ;  at  least  he  made  no  pretense  of  a 
love  he  did  not  feel — he  was  not  a  hypocrite. 

"Why  should  you  wish  to  marry  me?" 
she  asked  slowly. 

"Because  I  admire  you  intensely.  Be 
cause  I  feel  that  as  my  wife  you  will  be 
able  to  assist  me  in  my  ambition." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          221 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"No!  No!"  she  cried.  "I  could  not 
marry  a  man  I  did  not  love." 

"I  intend  to  marry  you,"  he  said.  "I 
am  not  a  man  who  usually  fails  of  his  pur 
pose." 

"Have  you  no  heart?"  she  asked.  "Can 
you  be  serious  in  this  cold-blooded  propo 
sition?" 

"My  dear  Miss  Duncan,  I  repeat  again 
that  I  consider  marriage  a  partnership. 
Take  plenty  of  time ;  think  over  my  propo 
sition  thoroughly;  consult  your  father  if 
you  like,  and  remember  that  as  my  wife 
you  will  receive  my  respect  and  admiration ; 
you  will,  I  think,  become  a  power  socially 
and  politically." 

"You  are  at  least  frank,"  she  said. 

"I  am  fifty-four  years  old,  but  I  am  not 
foolish  enough  to  imagine  that  I  could  win 
your  love.  Your  hand  is  all  I  aspire  to. 
Here  comes  Komlossy  to  talk  to  you. 
Think  over  all  I  have  said.  There  is  no 
particular  hurry.  The  nomination  for  Min 
ister  to  Denmark  will  not  be  made  until  you 
speak  the  word." 

General    Lloyd    bowed    politely  and    re- 


222          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

tired.  Violet  looked  after  him  intently. 
Komlossy  watched  her.  Is  this  the  end  of 
everything,  she  wondered — the  end  of  love? 

"If  I  were  you  I  should  marry  him,"  said 
Komlossy.  "  He  is  an  excellent  parti ;  mil 
lions,  position,  influence.  What  more  do 
you  want?" 

"I  want  to  love  the  man  I  marry,"  she 
said.  Komlossy  had  asked  the  question 
she  was  putting  to  herself,  and  she  had  an 
swered  it  unmindful  of  his  presence. 

"Love  is  a  disease,"  grunted  the  Hun 
garian. 

She  turned  suddenly,  and  looked  at  him 
reproachfully. 

"Why  are  you  men  of  the  world  all 
alike?"  she  exclaimed.  "Why  do  you  all 
take  the  same  bitter  view  of  life?  Why  do 
you  all  deny  the  existence  of  the  one  thing 
for  which  a  woman  lives?" 

"Because  we  know  the  world." 

"And  do  you  honestly  believe  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  love?" 

"Love  is  the  ignis- fatuus — the  fire  of 
fools — which  hovers  over  the  wilderness  of 
life.  We  see  it,  we  pursue  it — but  there  it 
is,  always  before  us,  always  in  the  future." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          223 

"But  surely  some  attain  it,"  she  cried. 

"Some  seize  it  breathlessly,  only  to  learn 
that  it  was  merely  the  fire  called  passion ; 
others,  and  they  are  the  wise,  extinguish 
it,  and  leave  it  to  smoulder  on  the  hearth, 
as  the  comfortable  ember  of  domesticity; 
but  love  is  always  the  unattainable — the 
will-o'-the-wisp." 

"I  wonder  if  you  are  right,"  she  sighed, 
gazing  over  the  downs,  toward  Washington, 
where  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  burnished 
the  dome  of  the  Capitol.  She  had  known 
two  men  who  had  influenced  her.  Jack 
Hardy,  the  valiant  unpolished  soldier,  was 
one.  He  would  die  for  love  as  he  would 
for  country.  She  had  failed  to  love  him 
because  he  lacked  in  fascination.  Ritchie 
Maitland  was  the  other;  he  succeeded 
where  his  rival  failed;  he  knew  the  signs 
and  'passwords  of  a  woman's  heart.  He 
was  an  arch  player  in  the  game  of  love. 
But  now  that  she  knew  his  duplicity,  no 
words  could  express  her  contempt ;  he  was 
a  miserable  reptile  whom  she  longed  to 
crush — the  man  of  all  men  whom  she 
hated. 

And  now  another  had  come  into  her  life, 


224         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

offering  wealth,  position,  power — all  that 
the  heart  desires,  except  the  one  craving — 
love.  Why  seek  for  more?  Why  weary 
herself  longer  with  fruitless  chasing  after 
that  will-o'-the-wisp?  That  was  the  ques 
tion  she  asked  herself.  The  temptation  was 
strong.  She  shuddered  at  the  thought  that 
she  might  not  prove  strong  enough  to  resist. 
Other  women  had  sold  themselves  to  am 
bition,  and  they  were  happy — at  least  as 
happy  as  many  of  those  who  were  merely 
the  slaves  of  love. 

"Eh  bien!"  said  Komlossy.  "You  do 
not  answer.  You  admit  that  love  is  unat 
tainable. " 

"I  admit  that  I  have  not  attained  it," 
she  said  thoughtfully. 

That  night,  when  she  was  leaving  the 
house  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Elliott,  she  went 
to  the  library,  where,  as  usual,  her  father 
was  working.  Laying  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  she  said  quietly: 

"General  Lloyd  has  asked  me  to  marry 
him.  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

The  Secretary  looked  up  in  astonishment. 
"General  Lloyd  wants  to  marry  you!"  he 
exclaimed. 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          225 

"Yes,  he  asked  me  this  afternoon,"  she 
said  coldly.  "It  would  be  a  brilliant 
match,  would  it  not?" 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it.  Looking 
into  her  eyes,  he  said  tenderly:  "You  do 
not  love  him,  do  you,  Violet?" 

"As  much  as  I  shall  love  any  man." 

"Are  you  quite  sure?" 

' '  As  sure  as  I  am  of  anything. ' ' 

There  was  a  bitter  tone  to  her  voice. 
Her  father  drew  her  toward  him,  until  she 
sat  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"Be  careful,  Violet,"  he  said.  "Do  not 
make  a  mistake  you  can  never  rectify." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "Would 
it  not  please  you  if  I  were  to  marry  General 
Lloyd?"  she  asked. 

For  a  moment  the  Secretary  did  not  re 
ply;  he  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  pile  of 
papers  on  his  desk. 

"You  know,  Violet,"  he  said  finally, 
"that  I  am  a  poor  man.  I  have  nothing  at 
present  but  my  salary  and  a  few  odds  and 
ends  of  property  of  not  much  value.  I 
have  devoted  too  much  of  my  life  to  poli 
tics  to  grow  rich.  I  had  more  a  few 
years  ago  when  you  and  your  mother 


226         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

went  to  Europe,  but  the  panic  took  most 
of  it." 

"And  General  Lloyd  is  rich  and  influ 
ential,"  said  Violet.  "Together  you  would 
be  a  power  in  politics." 

"Whatever  happens,  do  not  let  such  an 
argument  influence  you,"  he  exclaimed. 

Without  replying  she  kissed  him  and  left 
the  room  hurriedly.  "If  I  cannot  bring 
happiness  to  myself,"  she  thought,  "I  can 
at  least  bring  relief  to  him." 


XVI 

"AND    SWEET   REVENGE   GROWS   HARSH." 
Othello,  V.  2. 

Mrs.  Elliott's  dinner  was  a  rollicking 
affair,  where  formality  was  scattered  to  the 
four  winds.  Violet  was  in  a  reckless  mood. 
Neither  General  Lloyd  nor  Ritchie  Maitland 
was  there,  and  for  the  moment  she  forgot 
that  she  was  at  the  cross-roads  where  she 
must  choose  the  way  of  the  future.  She 
plunged  headlong  into  the  merriment,  and 
people  paused  to  wonder  and  admire.  Her 
cheeks  glowed,  her  eyes  were  full  of  anima 
tion  ;  she  had  never  been  more  entertaining, 
nor  so  beautiful.  It  was  an  hour  of  mental 
abandon  in  which  she  tried  to  forget  self. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  party  went 
to  Mrs.  Herkomer's  musicale.  They  found 
the  room  already  filled  to  overflowing.  The 
leading  artists  of  the  opera  had  been 
brought  over  from  New  York  to  render  a 
jumble  of  Wagner  and  "Home,  Sweet 
Home,"  at  so  much  per  song,  and  the  au- 
227 


228          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

dience,  that  is  to  say,  the  feminine  portion, 
was  for  the  moment  casting  admiring 
glances  at  Ivan  Gereczow,  a  Slavonian 
Adonis  with  a  tenor  voice,  and  feigning  an 
appreciation  for  the  tumultuous  chords  of 
the  "Gotterdammerung." 

Mrs.  Herkomer  was  a  purveyor  to  society, 
tolerated  for  the  cheer  she  provided.  She 
was  a  long  way  from  a  seat  on  Olympus, 
but  the  gods  deigned  to  honor  her,  occa 
sionally,  for  the  sake  of  her  chef.  She  was, 
in  a  way,  the  rival  of  Mrs.  Silas  Smith,  but 
the  latter  had  a  reason  for  being;  her  hus 
band  was  a  senator,  whereas  Mr.  Herkomer 
was  merely  the  proprietor  of  the  St.  Louis 
Street  Railway  system.  At  home  he  was  a 
magnate,  but  in  Washington  he  was  only 
Mrs.  Herkomer's  husband — an  absentee 
landlord,  forced  to  reside  at  the  national 
capital  by  the  social  ambitions  of  his  wife. 

The  price-mark  was  invariably  attached 
to  Mrs.  Herkomer's  entertainments,  but  on 
the  present  occasion  the  zeros  to  the  left  of 
the  decimal  point  had  been  visibly  in 
creased.  Madame  Scala  was  to  receive 
$2,000  for  a  song,  and  Gereczow  was  to  be 
paid  extra  for  each  encore.  Madame  Malve 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          229 

refused  to  sing  because  Scala,  her  great 
rival,  had  been  previously  engaged ;  but 
that  was  the  only  blot  upon  the  occasion; 
all  the  lesser  satellites  were  there  in  the 
form  of  contraltos,  bassos,  and  baritones — 
and  the  total  cost  would  have  endowed  a 
university  professorship,  had  the  funds  been 
turned  to  such  a  prosaic  use. 

No  wonder  the  ball-room  was  crowded, 
and  that  most  of  the  people  were  bored. 
No  one  had  the  temerity  to  talk  during  such 
expensive  music.  From  the  view-point  of 
entertainment,  one  of  those  drawing-room 
falsettos  with  an  English  accent,  who  sings 
whenever  the  conversation  lags,  at  fifty  dol 
lars  per  night,  was  worth  twenty  Gerec- 
zows ;  at  least  that  was  the  Philistine  opin 
ion  of  Dick  Willing. 

Violet  glanced  into  the  crowded  ball 
room.  She  was  not  in  the  mood  for  classi 
cal  music — the  spirit  of  rashness  was  still 
upon  her;  the  reckless  fire  was  in  her  dark 
eyes ;  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  excite 
ment.  She  was  defiant,  and  at  war  with 
the  world ;  she  cared  not  what  happened. 
As  she  turned  away  from  the  ball-room, 
Maitland  came  toward  her. 


230         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"Can  't  I  find  you  a  seat?"   he  asked. 

"Yes,  if  it  is  away  from  the  music,"  she 
said. 

"I  know  a  nook  under  the  stairs,  where 
we  can  talk  undisturbed,"  he  answered. 

She  had  not  spoken  to  him  alone  since 
she  had  overheard  his  conversation  with 
Phoebe  Smith.  She  was  glad  to  talk  to 
him.  She  felt  that  she  could  meet  him  on 
equal  terms;  could  give  as  well  as  take. 

"You  do  n't  like  music,  do  you?"  he  said 
as  he  took  the  seat  beside  her  in  the  nook 
under  the  stairs. 

"I  like  Sousa's  Band  or  a  hand-organ." 

"Another  taste  we  have  in  common. 
Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  a  savage,  but 
it  takes  a  pretty  girl  to  soothe  me.  I  am 
ready  to  be  soothed,"  he  added  in  a  flip 
pant  tone. 

Violet  looked  at  him  resentfully.  His 
manner  angered  her. 

"Why  should  you  need  soothing?"  she 
asked.  "I  thought  conceited  people  were 
always  serene. ' ' 

"That  is  unkind.  I  thought  you  were 
my  friend,"  he  replied. 

"Yes,    Ritchie,    I    am    your    friend — the 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          231 

one  who  understands  you  better  than  you 
do  yourself." 

"The  woman  does  not  live  who  under 
stands  me,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 

His  way  of  saying  that  was  boastful, 
even  caddish;  it  made  her  thoroughly 
angry.  She  longed  to  humiliate  him. 

"Do  you  really  imagine  that  your  char 
acter  is  profound?"  she  asked. 

"Do  you  really  imagine  that  you  under 
stand  me?"  he  replied. 

"Ritchie  Maitland,"  she  answered  sharp 
ly?  "you  make  the  mistake  of  supposing 
that  your  cleverness  is  commensurate  with 
your  vanity. 

"I  made  the  mistake  of  supposing  that 
you  were  my  friend." 

"It  is  a  friend's  privilege  to  speak  the 
truth." 

"But  not  to  insult,"  he  said  resentfully. 

"Let  me  tell  you  the  truth,  then.  It 
will  do  you  good.  You  may  decide  after 
ward  whether  it  is  insulting. ' ' 

"The  truth  about  what?" 

"About  a  young  office-seeker  who  came 
to  Washington  to  get  an  appointment.  The 
story  is  interesting,  and  it  has  a  moral. ' ' 


232          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"1  have  outgrown  fairy  tales  and  stories 
with  morals,"  he  said  suspiciously. 

"But  I  insist." 

"Then  gallantry  compels  me  to  listen; 
but  I  hate  being  lectured  by  innuendo. 

"This  is  not  a  lecture  or  a  fairy  tale," 
she  replied  scornfully,  "but  merely  a  little 
romance  with  a  dash  of  realism.  You  see, 
the  hero  of  my  tale  was  an  office-seeker  who 
was  worldly-wise,  so  he  did  not  come  to 
Washington  with  a  brass  band  and  a  dele 
gation;  on  the  contrary,  he  came  deftly  and 
discreetly,  without  blare  of  trumpets;  he 
said  little  and  did  little  until  he  had  crept 
near  the  seats  of  the  mighty,  and  learned 
that  one  in  authority,  who,  as  politicians 
say,  "possessed  the  ear  of  the  President," 
had  a  daughter  who  was  influential,  and,  as 
he  supposed,  impressionable." 

"What  is  the  use  of  all  this,"  Ritchie 
asked.  "Is  it  not  better  left  unsaid?" 

"A  story  is  often  misjudged  unless  it  is 
followed  to  the  end." 

Maitland  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  ac 
quiescence. 

"My  hero,"  continued  Violet,  "con 
ceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  reaching  the  man 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          233 

of  influence  through  the  daughter.  A 
heroic  game,  and  exciting,  too,  for  he  came 
so  near  compromising  himself  that  he  was 
compelled  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat;  that  is, 
after  he  discovered  that  his  efforts  were  in 
vain,  and  the  office  he  sought  was  given  to 
a  rival." 

"Really,  Violet,  I  protest,"  Maitland 
exclaimed.  "You  misjudge  me." 

"Wait  until  I  have  finished." 

"Very  well,  if  you  insist." 

"That  is  the  story  from  the  hero's  point 
of  view,"  she  continued  excitedly,  "except 
that  having  been  foiled  in  his  search  for 
office,  he  conceived  the  manly  plan  of  mak 
ing  love  to  the  only  daughter  of  a  million 
aire,  as  a  last  resort."  ... 

"I  refuse  to  listen  to  this  stuff,"  pro 
tested  Maitland. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  she  laughed.  "Why 
I  have  just  come  to  the  heroine.  You 
could  not  refuse  to  listen  to  the  woes 
and  trials  of  an  unfortunate  maiden,  could 
you?" 

"Well,  go  on  with  your  fairy  tale,"  he 
said,  plunging  his  hands  into  his  pockets 
resignedly. 


234         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"The  fairy  of  my  tale  was  young  and 
guileless — at  least,  the  hero  so  supposed. 
But  appearances  are  sometimes  deceiving. 
So  it  happened  that  the  fairy  lived  much 
in  the  world,  and  knew  the  ways  of  men. 
When  the  young  office-seeker  appeared,  she 
was  looking  for  diversion.  His  schemes 
were  very  transparent,  but,  nevertheless, 
the  sport  was  amusing.  His  attentions  were 
quite  assiduous — that  is,  to  a  certain  point ; 
but  with  wily  precaution,  he  invariably 
tempered  his  love-making  with  enigmas  and 
innuendos  which  he  fancied  were  profound 
and  guarded.  Now,  it  happened  that  the 
heroine  was  amusing  herself  at  the  expense 
of  the  young  man,  so  his  schemes  did  not 
materialize  exactly  as  he  had  expected. 
You  see,  she  had  a  very  dear  friend,  and 
together  they  played  a  diverting  game  in 
the  world  of  politics.  The  clever  young 
man  was  used  advantageously  in  a  bold 
political  stroke.  He  failed  to  get  his  ap 
pointment,  but  a  party  feud  was  settled  in 
the  principal  State  of  the  Union." 

"Do  you  mean — ?"   cried  Maitland. 

"That  General  Lloyd  and  I  arranged  to 
defeat  your  appointment,  in  order  to  prove 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          235 

how  utterly  you  were  lacking  in  sincerity — 
certainly." 

Maitland  was  silent.  Anger  was  in  his 
eyes ;  his  hands  twitched  nervously. 

"How  do  you  like  my  story?"  she  asked. 
"Is  it  getting  interesting?" 

"You  should  become  a  novelist,"  he  said 
with  a  sneer.  "The  plot  is  a  trifle  ama 
teurish,  however;  it  needs  working  up." 

"Do  not  criticise  before  the  story  is  fin 
ished,"  she  answered  coldly. 

"Oh,  there  is  more,  is  there?" 

"Yes,  there  is  more,"  she  answered. 

Ritchie  Maitland  was  still  contemptuous. 
There  was  but  one  means  left  to  humiliate 
him.  It  was  a  desperate  course,  but  in  that 
moment  of  anger  she  resolved  to  take  it. 
He  must  be  humbled ;  he  must  be  made  to 
confess  his  inferiority,  no  matter  what  the 
cost  might  be.  She  was  ready  for  any  rash 
deed,  if  it  would  lift  the  weight  from  her 
heart.  She  was  reckless  and  defiant.  War 
was  declared,  and  she  must  secure  a  vic 
tory.  Codte  que  codte. 

"Well,"  he  said,  examining  his  finger 
nails  in  a  casual  manner,  "I  am  waiting  for 
the  denouement." 


236         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

''In  the  denouement,  the  heroine  be 
comes  the  good  fairy,"  said  Violet.  "She 
and  her  friend  take  pity  on  the  young 
office-seeker.  They  realise  his  shortcom 
ings,  and  his  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and  decide  that  he  ought  to  go  abroad, 
where  he  may  learn  something  of  the  world, 
and  of  women  in  particular.  You  see,  the 
heroine  and  her  friend  are  people  of  influ 
ence,  so  it  is  easy  for  them  to  obtain  for  the 
young  man  a  post  far  more  elevated  than 
the  humble  office  to  which  he  aspired." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Ritchie  ex 
claimed. 

"I  mean,"  Violet  said  calmly,  "that 
your  name  is  about  to  go  to  the  Senate  as 
Minister  to  Denmark,  and  that  I  am  going 
to  marry  General  Lloyd.  How  do  you  like 
the  denouement?" 

For  a  moment  he  sat  there  gazing  at  the 
floor;  then  he  turned  and  looked  at  her. 
He  met  a  contemptuous  glance  that  made 
him  turn  his  eyes  away  and  wince.  He 
was  no  longer  defiant ;  his  manner  was 
sneaking,  like  that  of  a  whipped  puppy. 
That  was  her  revenge. 

"Really   I    am   very   grateful,"  he    mut- 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          237 

tered  finally.  "You  have  been  a  true 
friend.  I — I  congratulate  you. " 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  How 
could  he  accept  office  from  her  when  it  was 
thrown  to  him  like  a  sop  to  a  dog.  "If  he 
had  a  spark  of  manhood  in  him,"  she 
thought,  "he  would  resent  such  a  gift  from 
a  woman  who  had  told  him  in  so  many 
words  that  he  was  a  cad — a  woman  who 
despised  him." 

"Ritchie  Maitland,"  she  said,  rising  from 
her  seat,  "I  have  but  one  favor  to  ask:  Go 
to  poor  little  Phoebe  Smith  and  undeceive 
her — be  generous  for  once  in  your  life." 

She  walked  away.  His  momentary  im 
pulse  was  to  follow  her  and  acknowledge 
that  all  she  said  was  true;  to  ask  forgive 
ness,  and  tell  her  that  he  loved  her — loved 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with  a  manly, 
generous  love.  For  a  moment  he  hesi 
tated  ;  then  the  old  cynical  smile  crossed 
his  lips.  "It  's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no 
body  good,"  he  said  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "Things  seem  to  be  coming  my 
way — why  not  let  them  come?" 

In  a  moment  of  anger,  Violet  had  taken 
a  step  from  which  there  was  no  turning 


238         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

back.  She  had  seen  Ritchie  Mainland 
cringe  before  her;  she  had  seen  him  con 
fused  and  beaten,  but  at  what  price?  She 
dared  not  think  of  the  consequences.  She 
had  redeemed  herself  before  the  world ;  no 
one  could  say  she  had  been  jilted.  The 
future?  What  did  the  future  matter?  Her 
pride  was  avenged. 

She  walked  alone  into  the  ball-room. 
Scala  had  just  finished  a  song;  the  applause 
was  dying  away. 

"Won't  you  have  this  seat,  Miss  Dun 
can?"  said  a  voice  beside  her.  She  turned 
suddenly.  For  a  moment  her  pulses 
throbbed  violently. 

"General  Lloyd,"  she  said,  finally,  with 
an  effort,  "I  was  looking  for  you.  Do  you 
mind  stepping  into  the  hall?  I  have  some 
thing  very  important  to  say  to  you." 

He  followed  her.  When  they  were  alone 
she  stopped.  Turning,  she  looked  him 
firmly  in  the  eyes  and  said:  "I  have  just 
told  Mr.  Maitland  that  he  is  to  be  appointed 
Minister  to  Denmark." 

"Then  you  will  marry  me?"  he  answered 
quietly. 

"If  you  wish  it." 


"*THKN  voi;  \\ii.i.  MAKKV  MI;.'  " 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          239 

"That  is  the  only  answer  I  ask,"  he  re 
plied,  taking  her  hand  and  kissing  it. 

The  room  grew  black  before  her  eyes. 

"Get  me  a  glass  of  water,  won't  you?" 
she  asked.  "Quick!  I  feel  faint — it  is  so 
hot  here." 

General  Lloyd  bowed  with  his  usual 
suavity,  but  there  was  a  cold,  hard  look  in 
his  eyes  which  Violet  did  not  notice. 


XVII 

"HOW  LOVE   CAN   TRIFLE  WITH   ITSELF." 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  IV.  4. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  them?" 
said  Komlossy,  dropping  into  a  seat  beside 
Mrs.  Cortland,  during  an  afternoon  tea  at 
the  Japanese  legation. 

"Think  of  whom?"  asked  Mrs.  Cortland. 
"The  new  Brazilian  minister  and  his  wife?" 

"No,  the  new  engagements." 

"Are  they  announced?" 

"Yes,  both  of  them  this  morning." 

"I  knew  about  them  a  week  ago,  so  they 
do  not  interest  me." 

"Not  interest  you!"  exclaimed  the  Hun 
garian,  in  astonishment.  "Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  have  no  interest  in  this 
great  social  tragedy  which  is  being  enacted 
under  your  very  nose?" 

"Tragedy!"  said  Mrs.  Cortland.  "I 
should  call  it  a  farce." 

"It  is  always  a  tragedy  when   a  young 
girl  marries  an  old  man." 
240 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          241 

"And  when  a  poor  man  marries  a  rich 
girl,  I  suppose." 

"No,  that  part  of  it  is  quite  right.  I 
recommended  that  match  myself.  Indeed 
I  may  safely  say  I  was  the  first  to  suggest 
the  idea  to  Maitland  and  la  mtre  Smith." 

"Oh,  indeed!  So  you  have  become  a 
matrimonial  agent,  have  you?  I  think  you 
might  find  better  mischief  for  your  idle 
hands  to  do." 

"Then  you  do  n't  approve — ?" 

"Of  Phoebe  Smith  throwing  herself  away 
on  Ritchie  Maitland?  Certainly  not." 

'  'I  think  the  throwing  is  the  other  way. 
What  is  Phoebe  Smith — a  little  parvenue." 

"With  a  million  or  two." 

"Exactly." 

"And  what  is  Ritchie  Maitland?"  asked 
Mrs.  Cortland. 

"Minister  to  Denmark.  Nominated  by 
General  Lloyd,  at  the  instigation  of  Violet 
Duncan,"  said  Komlossy,  sarcastically, 
"because  she  is  in  love  with  him — that  is 
where  the  tragedy  comes  in." 

"Violet  is  going  to  marry  General  Lloyd; 
the  presumption  is  that  she  is  in  love  with 
him,"  answered  Mrs.  Cortland  dryly. 


242          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

The  minister  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"The  presumption  invariably  is  that  a 
woman  loves  the  man  she  is  going  to 
marry,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  presum 
ing  too  much." 

"If  I  had  to  choose,"  said  Mrs.  Cort- 
land,  "I  would  prefer  marrying  General 
Lloyd  to  Ritchie  Maitland." 

"Because  he  is  richer?" 

"No,  because,  in  the  natural  course  of 
events,  he  should  die  sooner." 

"In  either  case,  you  do  not  approve  of 
Violet  Duncan's  taste." 

"I  am  very  much  disappointed  in  Vio 
let." 

"I  suppose  you  think  she  ought  to  have 
married  Jack  Hardy." 

"A  woman  ought  to  marry  the  man  she 
loves ;  if  she  gets  over  loving  him  after  mar 
riage,  that  is  another  matter." 

"And  you  think  Violet  loves  Jack 
Hardy?" 

"I  think  she  does  not  love  General 
Lloyd,  that  is  all.  But  what  is  the  use  of 
discussing  the  matter?" 

"Because  there  is  nothing  else  to  dis 
cuss,"  said  Komlossy. 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          243 

"There  is  the  new  Brazilian  minister 
and  his  wife,"  answered  Mrs.  Cortland 
dryly. 

Violet  entered  the  room.  There  was  a 
flutter  of  excitement,  for  her  engagement 
was  the  nine-days  wonder.  People  pressed 
forward  to  greet  her,  and  she  received  their 
congratulations  with  an  attempt  to  feign  a 
happiness  she  did  not  feel.  In  a  moment 
of  pique  she  had  promised  to  marry  a  man 
she  did  not  love;  a  cold,  calculating  in 
triguer,  the  very  touch  of  whose  hand  made 
her  shiver.  She  had  sacrificed  herself  to 
pride,  but  with  what  result?  For  one  mo 
ment  she  had  seen  Ritchie  Maitland  con 
fused  and  beaten.  It  had  been  a  moment 
of  exultation.  But  he  had  come  forth  the 
same  disdainful  Ritchie  Maitland  she  had 
tried  so  hard  to  humble.  He  had  accepted 
the  Danish  mission  as  his  due,  and  now  his 
engagement  to  Phoebe  Smith  was  an 
nounced.  He  was  to  all  appearances  su 
premely  contented  with  himself.  This  was 
the  man  for  whom  she  had  sold  herself ;  a 
man  whom  she  despised ;  a  man  whom  she 
had  never  loved.  She  emphasized  the 
word  "never"  to  assure  herself  of  its 


244         THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

truth.  People  thought  she  was  marrying 
for  money.  She  wished  she  had  even 
that  excuse.  She  was  marrying  for  the 
sake  of  wounded  pride — marrying  because 
her  life  so  far  had  been  a  failure,  and 
the  future  held  forth  no  inducements.  Her 
lips  drooped ;  there  was  a  look  of  dis 
appointment  and  age  in  her  eyes.  She 
hated  the  world  and  everybody  in  it — ex 
cept  Jack  Hardy.  She  had  known  one 
loyal  man,  and  she  was  thankful  for  it — 
now,  when  it  was  too  late.  She  dared  not 
think  of  Jack.  When  he  learned  the  truth, 
he,  too,  would  despise  her.  She  tossed  her 
head  back  with  a  smile.  What  did  it  mat 
ter?  She  was  to  be  rich  and  powerful;  the 
world  would  fawn  upon  her  for  the  sake  of 
the  influence  she  would  wield.  What  did 
it  matter — if  the  world  despised  her — for 
she  despised  herself. 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Komlossy,  as 
he  approached  her,  "you  look  too  thought 
ful  for  a  bride-elect." 

"Is  not  the  contemplation  of  marriage 
sufficiently  serious  to  make  one  thought 
ful?"  she  asked. 

"Now  that  it  is  all  settled,  and  you  have 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          245 

made  your  choice,  you  ought  to  think  of 
nothing  more  serious  than  your  trousseau." 

"Could  anything  be  more  serious  than 
one's  trousseau?"  said  Violet  with  a 
laugh. 

"I  see,"  answered  Komlossy,  "that  you 
are  fully  alive  to  your  new  responsibilities. 
Now,  permit  me  to  extend  my  congratula 
tions." 

"I  do  n't  want  to  be  congratulated.  I 
have  heard  nothing  else  all  day.  People 
come  and  tell  me  all  sorts  of  things  they 
do  n't  mean,  and  I  have  to  smile  and  try  to 
look  pleased.  It  is  a  great  bore,  Kom 
lossy. 

"Very  well,  then,  I  think  you  are  making 
a  terrible  mistake.  You  are  giving  up  your 
girlhood,  your  liberty,  your  supremacy — all 
to  enter  that  unknown  land  of  matrimony, 
so  alluring  to  strangers,  so  irksome  to  its  in 
habitants.  In  other  words,  you  are  a  fool 
to  get  married.  Do  you  like  that  better?" 

"A  great  deal,"  said  Violet.  "Because 
I  fancy  it  is  nearer  what  you  believe. ' ' 

"I  believe,"  answered  the  little  Hunga 
rian,  "that  for  an  attractive  woman  marriage 
is  unavoidable.  The  only  way  to  face  the 


246         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

problem  is  philosophically — make  a  wise 
marriage  as  you  are  doing." 

Violet  thought  Komlossy  was  becoming 
too  frank.  She  was  on  the  point  of  reply 
ing  angrily,  but  checked  herself. 

"When  do  you  intend  to  marry  Mrs. 
Cortland?"  she  said  suddenly. 

"Whenever  she  will  marry  me." 

"To-morrow,  then,"  laughed  Violet. 

Komlossy  frowned.  "A  year  ago,"  he 
said,  "Brankovan  confided  to  me  that  he 
was  madly  in  love  with  Mrs.  Cortland.  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  cut  him 
out.  So  I  became  desperately  attentive 
myself.  One  day  I  arranged  a  rendezvous 
at  a  secluded  spot  near  the  Soldier's  Home. 
We  were  to  meet  at  an  early  hour  and  walk 
among  the  shaded  groves  while  all  Wash 
ington  was  sleeping  in  ignorance  of  our 
trysting  place.  I  rode  out  at  the  appointed 
time,  laughing  meanwhile  at  the  gullible 
Brankovan.  Hitching  my  horse  at  a  con 
venient  distance,  I  stepped  boldly  across 
the  sward,  thinking  of  the  joy  that  awaited 
me,  when  lo  and  behold,  there  was  Brank 
ovan  pacing  nervously  to  and  fro,  like  a 
caged  panther,  but  there  was  no  lady.  She 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          247 

had  made  the  same  appointment  with  both 
of  us,  and  left  us  to  meet  each  other.  I 
assure  you  a  duel  was  but  narrowly  averted. 
Since  then  I  have  never  made  love  to  Mrs. 
Cortland." 

"But  I  am  sure  you  are  in  love  with 
her,"  said  Violet.  "A  man  invariably 
loves  the  woman  who  makes  a  fool  of  him." 

"But  a  woman  never  loves  the  man  she 
has  made  a  fool  of,  so  there  you  are. 
lll-y-a  toujours  Vun  qui  aime  et  Vautre  qui 
se  laisse  aimer. '  Take  my  advice :  always 
let  some  one  else  do  the  loving — it  is  much 
less  troublesome." 

Komlossy  walked  away  as  he  said  that, 
and  a  retired  admiral  came  to  talk  to  Vio 
let.  She  found  it  an  effort  to  listen  to  the 
complimentary  phrases  of  the  old  sea-dog, 
because  she  was  thinking  hard  about  what 
Komlossy  had  been  saying,  and  wondering 
whether  she  had  solved  the  marriage  prob 
lem  philosophically.  There  is  a  vast  differ 
ence,  however,  between  philosophy  and 
felicity. 

A  little  later  Mrs.  Cortland  came  toward 
Violet. 

"Violet."  she  said,  "I    don't   believe  in 


248          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

perfunctory  congratulations — they  mean  so 
little.  I  hope  you  are  happy.  No  one 
deserves  happiness  more  than  you  do, 
dear. 

Violet  looked  at  Mrs.  Cortland  curiously. 
"Do  you  think  any  one  is  ever  happy  for 
more  than  a  very  short  time?"  she  asked. 

"You  are  too  young,"  said  Mrs.  Cort 
land,  "to  look  at  life  in  that  way.  I  do  n't 
believe  in  cynics.  A  cynic  is  only  the  dupe 
of  his  own  follies.  There  is  such  a  thing 
as  happiness,  but  it  is  not  self-gratification 
or  self-sufficiency ;  it  is,  I  should  say, 
merely  the  habit  of  good  intentions." 

"Oh,  be  good  and  you  '11  be  happy," 
Violet  laughed.  '  'That  is  very  trite,  Mrs. 
Cortland." 

"Be  true  to  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Cort 
land.  "That  is  all  a  woman  has  to  do  in 
this  world." 

"I  thought  she  had  to  be  true  to  her  hus 
band."  Violet  said  this  flippantly.  She 
did  not  want  to  talk  seriously  with  Mrs. 
Cortland.  She  was  very  fond  of  her,  and 
it  made  her  uncomfortable  to  feel  that  she 
disapproved  of  her  approaching  marriage. 
It  had  seemed  so  easy  to  brave  criticism,  to 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          249 

stifle  the  promptings  of  her  heart,  but  now 
she  was  frightened  by  her  own  weakness. 
She  turned  to  Mrs.  Cortland  and  said  sud 
denly  : 

"I  hate  to  have  you  disapprove  of  me. 
I  do  n't  mind  what  others  think;  but  you — 
oh,  if  you  only  understood,  you  would 
think  differently  about  me." 

Then  she  walked  away  abruptly. 

"Poor  child,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland,  look 
ing  after  her,  "she  has  too  much  heart  for 
the  part  she  is  playing. 

Violet  drove  home  from  the  Japanese 
legation  with  General  Lloyd.  It  was  nearly 
dark,  and  the  street  lamps  were  already 
lighted.  Once  she  had  enjoyed  talking  to 
him;  his  knowledge  of  men  and  of  the 
world  had  interested  her;  but  now  she  drew 
back  instinctively  into  her  corner  of  the 
brougham  and  feigned  fatigue.  She  was 
afraid  to  be  alone  with  this  man  with  whom 
she  was  to  spend  her  life;  this  old  grey- 
haired  man.  She  looked  up  suddenly,  as 
though  awaking  from  a  dream.  The  light 
of  a  street  lamp  flickered  for  a  moment  on 
his  face.  How  cold  and  deliberate  his  feat 
ures  were. 


250         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Why  did  you  look  at  me  like  that?"  he 
asked. 

"Did  I  look  at  you?  Pardon  me,  I  was 
only  thinking." 

"You  were  thinking  about  me,"  he  said. 

"I  was  thinking  about  the  future." 

"And  regretting  the  past,"  he  added 
frigidly. 

"I  have  nothing  to  regret,"  she  said 
firmly. 

"And  everything  to  live  for,"  he  replied 
with  a  short  laugh.  "There  is  but  one 
thing  in  this  world  worth  living  for:  it  is 
power.  Together  we  shall  have  power, 
Violet;  we  shall  sway  the  destinies  of  men. " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "we  shall  sway  the 
destinies  of  men.  We  shall  be  happy." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her.  "Are  you 
sorry  you  are  going  to  marry  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  sorry  I  do  not  love  you,"  she  said 
suddenly.  "That  is  all." 

"You  are  frank,"  he  answered. 

"Have  I  ever  pretended  anything  else? 
I  hope  I  am  not  a  hypocrite." 

"No,  it  was  a  fair  bargain,"  he  sighed. 
"I  made  the  terms." 

They  drove    on    in    silence.      Finally  the 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          251 

carriage  stopped.  General  Lloyd  entered 
the  house  with  Violet. 

"I  shall  see  you  to-night,"  she  said,  as 
he  turned  to  go.  "It  was  very  kind  of 
Mrs.  Herkomer  to  give  us  a  dinner.  I 
scarcely  know  her." 

He  took  her  hand. 

"Why  are  you  so  deliberate  in  everything 
you  say  to  me?"  he  asked. 

"Because  everything  I  say  to  you  is 
purely  a  matter  of  deliberation." 

He  seized  both  her  hands  and  looked  into 
her  face  angrily.  "You  forget  you  are  go 
ing  to  be  my  wife,"  he  cried. 

She  returned  his  glance  calmly.  "You 
forget,"  she  said,  "that  you  wished  to 
marry  a  woman  whose  heart  had  been 
broken.  Your  wish  will  be  realised,  I  think." 

"Violet,"  he  said  more  tenderly,  "try 
and  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain.  Try 
and  love  me  just  a  little." 

"I  thought  you  did  not  believe  in  love," 
she  answered  coldly. 

He  drew  her  toward  him,  and  held  her 
tightly  in  his  arms. 

"You  are  making  me  believe  in  love,"  he 
said.  "You  are  so  cruel."  He  kissed  her. 


252          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Violet  shuddered.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  kissed  her. 

"Don't,"  she  said  feebly. 

He  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  and 
holding  her  away  from  him,  glared  at  her 
fiercely.  "I  will  make  you  love  me,"  he 
cried.  Then  he  released  her  suddenly,  and 
pushing  her  from  him  he  left  the  room  with 
out  a  word  or  a  gesture  of  farewell. 

Violet  stood  looking  at  the  open  door. 

"Oh,  I  can  't  bear  it — I  can  't  bear  it!" 
she  sighed. 

Her  face  hardened.  She  pressed  her  lips 
together  firmly.  "We  will  sway  the  des 
tinies  of  men,"  she  said,  laughing  hoarsely. 
Then,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  she 
turned  suddenly  and  walked  toward  the 
writing-table.  Seating  herself,  she  took 
pen  and  paper,  and  wrote  hurriedly  this 
note: 

"DEAR  JACK: — I  have  something  to  tell 
you.  Something  that  will  make  you  feel 
very  badly.  I  am  going  to  be  married, 
Jack.  I  am  going  to  marry  General  Lloyd. 
There  is  so  much  I  should  like  to  say  to 
you — so  much  that  is  in  my  heart  to  say — 
but  what  would  be  the  use?  Forget  me, 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          253 

Jack — I  was  never  worthy  of  your  friend 
ship.  Think  of  me  as  I  really  am — a  vain, 
selfish  thing.  I  told  you  that  once  before. 
Do  you  remember  the  time?  I  shall  never 
forget  it,  for  all  the  good  that  has  ever 
come  into  my  life  has  come  from  knowing 
you.  Jack,  I  can  't  say  more.  I  realise 
now  how  thoroughly  brave  and  good  you 
are,  but  sometimes  realisation  comes  too 
late.  Good-bye, 

"  VIOLET." 

When  she  had  finished  writing  she  took 
the  note  and  read  it  slowly.  Then,  folding 
it  carefully,  she  placed  it  in  an  envelope, 
and  taking  up  the  pen  again  she  wrote  the 
address : 

"JOHN  W.  HARDY,  ESQ., 

"Lieutenant  I2th  Cavalry, 

"Fort  Riley,  Kans." 

Turning  the  envelope  slowly  in  her  hands, 
she  gazed  long  into  the  dying  embers  of  the 
fire.  Then,  tossing  back  her  head  sud 
denly,  she  seized  the  letter  and  tore  it  into 
little  fragments. 

"Let  him  think  of  me  as  the  world  thinks 
of  me,"  she  cried  aloud,  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands. 


XVIII 

"SO   IS   THE   BARGAIN." 
As  You  Like  It.   V.  4. 

They  were  taking  supper  after  the  play 
in  the  restaurant  of  a  New  York  hotel,  Vio 
let,  Mrs.  Cortland,  General  Lloyd,  and 
Komlossy.  Violet  had  run  over  from 
Washington  with  Mrs.  Cortland  to  inter 
view  dressmakers  and  milliners,  while  Kom 
lossy  had  the  peculiar  habit  of  appearing 
when  least  expected — that  is  to  say,  when 
Mrs.  Cortland  least  expected  him. 

People  wondered  why  Violet  should  begin 
the  selection  of  her  trousseau  months  before 
her  marriage — but  those  who  wondered, 
overlooked  the  wedding  of  Ritchie  Maitland 
and  Phoebe  Smith. 

All  Washington  had  been  convulsed  with 
anticipatory  excitement  regarding  this 
event.  The  wildest  rumors  were  afloat  as 
to  the  extravagance  of  the  preparations, 
while  the  marriage  of  the  daughter  of  the 
richest  man  in  the  Senate  with  the  newly- 
254 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          255 

appointed  Minister  to  Denmark  afforded  the 
representatives  of  the  new  journalism  a  rare 
opportunity  for  the  exploitation  of  the  lin- 
gere's  art. 

It  was  the  day  of  Ritchie  Maitland's  wed 
ding  ;  but  the  little  group  at  the  supper  table 
were  seemingly  unmindful  of  the  episode 
which  engrossed  society  at  the  National 
Capital.  They  had  already  been  put  in 
good  humor  by  a  rollicking  farce,  and  now 
the  lights  and  the  laughter,  the  music  and 
the  crowd,  were  stimulus  sufficient  to  make 
even  Violet  forget  for  the  moment  Ritchie 
Maitland.  She  had  grown  to  look  upon 
him  as  a  sneak  and  time-server.  He  was 
loathsome  to  her,  and  when  she  thought 
that  he  had  influenced  her  life,  she  hated 
herself  and  him.  She  could  not  meet  him 
without  a  feeling  of  repugnance — a  desire 
to  tell  him  how  thoroughly  she  despised 
him.  That  was  why  she  had  avoided  his 
wedding.  She  could  not  bear  to  think  that 
she  had  been  the  victim  sacrificed  at  the 
altar  of  his  triumph.  But  now,  amid  the 
laughter  and  the  music,  she  forgot  for  the 
moment  her  unhappiness. 

"I   love   to  see    people — I    love   to    see 


256          THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

a  crowd,"  she  said,  glancing  about  the 
room. 

All  sorts  and  conditions  were  there; 
dandies  of  the  metropolis,  conscious  of  their 
supremacy;  would-be  swells,  over-dressed 
and  blatant;  Westerners  with  "money  to 
burn;"  Hebraic  financiers,  statesmen,  a 
bridal  couple  from  the  country  staring  in 
wonderment.  Some  the  waiters  served 
obsequiously,  others  they  treated  with  in 
difference  or  scorn.  There  was  variety 
among  the  women,  too,  for  the  half-world 
has  a  certain  fascination  for  women  of  char 
acter  when  contact  with  it  is  confined  to  the 
interchange  of  glances. 

In  answer  to  Violet's  remark,  Komlossy 
glanced  about  him  scornfully.  "Cheap," 
he  said,  "cheap.  The  moment  a  place  in 
New  York  becomes  fashionable,  it  is  spoiled 
by  the  rabble." 

"To  me  the  rabble  is  the  most  attractive 
part,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland.  "How  tire 
some  it  would  be  if  there  were  only  the 
swells." 

"And  how  tired  the  swells  would  be," 
replied  General  Lloyd,  "if  there  were  no 
rabble  to  eftvy  them." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          257 

"Bah,"  said  Komlossy.  "That  is  the 
trouble  with  Americans.  Everything  is  so 
new  to  them  that  even  being  a  swell  is  like 
having  a  new  toy — the  fact  must  be  paraded 
around  for  all  the  other  children  to  envy." 

"The  trouble  with  you,  Komlossy,"  re 
torted  Mrs.  Cortland,  "is  that  you  are  too 
old  to  sympathize  with  us  children." 

The  little  diplomat  frowned — his  age  was 
a  sensitive  point. 

"You  see  we  are  all  against  you,  Kom 
lossy,"  said  Violet. 

"I  still  maintain  that  rabbles  are  vulgar, 
and  that  this  is  a  rabble,"  snapped  the  min 
ister,  draining  his  champagne  glass,  and 
glancing  about  him  with  an  expression  of 
disgust. 

"I  do  n't  know  but  you  are  right,"  said 
Mrs.  Cortland,  "when  such  pronounced 
creatures  as  that  come  here." 

They  all  followed  Mrs.  Cortland 's  eyes. 
A  stunning-looking  woman  stood  in  the 
doorway.  A  man  was  with  her,  and  they 
were  evidently  waiting  for  a  table.  Her 
face  had  that  half  sad,  half  defiant  expres 
sion  so  common  to  women  who  have  had 
to  fight  the  world.  She  was  strikingly  beau- 


258          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

tiful;  dreamy  eyes,  with  curling  lashes  and 
arched  brows,  a  clear  delicate  skin,  and 
almost  baby-like  lips.  Her  hair  was  the 
Titian  shade  of  red.  It  fell  about  her  face 
in  wavy  folds,  and  was  caught  together  care 
lessly  at  the  neck.  It  was  her  hair  and  the 
extravagant  clothes  she  was  wearing  which 
had  called  forth  Mrs.  Cortland's  remarks. 

"Oh,"  replied  Komlossy,  "don't  you 
know  her?  That  is  Camilla  Cameron.  You 
must  have  seen  her  at  the  Frivolity  the 
atre." 

"Why,  of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Cort- 
land,  raising  her  eyeglass. 

"She  is  very  beautiful,"  said  Violet.  As 
she  spoke  the  actress  met  her  glance.  Vio 
let  turned  her  eyes  away.  She  saw  an  ex 
pression  of  annoyance  and  embarrassment  on 
General  Lloyd's  face.  He  was  looking  in 
the  other  direction.  Violet  turned  to  look 
at  the  actress  again.  She  met  her  eyes  and 
smiled  in  a  way  that  was  annoying. 

"Did  you  see  her  stare  at  me?"  she  said 
to  Mrs.  Cortland. 

"Why  should  n't  she?"  interjected  Kom 
lossy.  '  'You  stared  at  her. 

Camilla   Cameron   and   her   friend  passed 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          259 

by  them  and  took  seats  at  an  adjoining 
table.  Violet  stole  covert  glances  at  the 
actress.  Her  expression,  at  once  so  bold 
and  yet  so  innocent,  fascinated  her.  She 
caught  herself  listening  to  the  conversation 
at  the  next  table. 

"It  's  perfectly  absurd  to  wait  here  any 
longer,"  Camilla  Cameron  was  saying.  "I 
never  saw  such  beastly  service.  Come, — I 
am  going."  Her  companion  remonstrated 
faintly. 

"I  won't  be  treated  so.  Here  we  have 
been  for  fully  ten  minutes  without  any  one 
coming  near  us.  I  am  going  this  instant. 
It  will  teach  them  a  lesson."  With  a  petu 
lant  toss  of  the  head  she  left  her  seat. 

As  she  passed  their  table  Violet  saw  her 
smile  at  General  Lloyd.  He  turned  his 
eyes  away  and  colored. 

A  quick  expression  of  anger  crossed  the 
actress'  face.  She  stopped  suddenly.  "I 
say,  Dick,"  she  said,  "you  needn't  be  so 
uppish  with  an  old  pal." 

"How  dare  you!"  said  the  General  un 
der  his  breath. 

The  actress  laughed.  Then  turning  to 
Violet  she  said  suddenly:  "You  '11  find  he 


260          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

has  a  bad  temper,  Miss  Duncan — at  least 
that  was  my  experience." 

"You  '11  pay  for  this,"  hissed  General 
Lloyd. 

"Really!"  said  the  actress,  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders.  Then  she  passed  quickly 
out  of  the  room. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Kom- 
lossy  tried  to  look  unconcerned.  General 
Lloyd  was  trembling  with  rage  and  morti 
fication,  while  Mrs.  Cortland  looked  at  Vio 
let  pityingly — for  the  moment  she  was  at  a 
loss  for  anything  to  say. 

Violet  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 
She  was  pale,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she 
spoke.  "I  hope  you  did  not  forget  those 
seats  for  to-morrow  night,  Richard,"  she 
said,  addressing  General  Lloyd. 

"I  hear  there  is  to  be  a  great  crowd,"  put 
in  Komlossy,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  speak. 
"Malve  has  never  sung  Carmen  before." 

"I  have  something  better  than  seats," 
replied  General  Lloyd.  "I  have  Mrs.  Des 
Brosses's  box." 

But  the  conversation  was  labored.  Each 
was  thinking  his  own  thoughts.  Soon  Mrs. 
Cortland  made  the  motion  to  leave  the 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          261 

table.  She  and  Violet  were  staying  in  the 
hotel,  so  they  wandered  toward  the  eleva 
tor.  General  Lloyd  followed  quickly.  "I 
wish  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said  to  Violet. 

She  turned  and  looked  him  full  in  the 
face. 

"Not  to-night,"  she  said.  "I  could  not 
talk  to  you  to-night." 

"As  you  will,"  he  answered,  bowing  per 
functorily. 

Mrs.  Cortland  had  never  been  taken  so 
completely  off  her  guard  before.  Though 
a  woman  of  the  world,  she  had  been  so 
shocked  by  the  actress's  extraordinary  con 
duct  that  she  had  simply  looked  on  in 
amazement,  unable  to  do  anything  to  relieve 
the  embarrassment. 

She  felt  such  sympathy  for  Violet  that 
she  longed  to  do  something  or  say  some 
thing  to  make  the  shock  easier  for  her  to 
bear;  but  when  she  reached  their  room,  all 
she  did  was  to  place  her  arm  tenderly  on 
Violet's  shoulder,  and  murmur,  "poor 
child." 

Violet  turned  and  looked  at  her.  Evi 
dent  determination  was  in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  glad  it  happened,"  she  said. 


262          THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS 

"Glad!"   exclaimed  Mrs.  Cortland. 

"Yes,"  answered  Violet.  "That — that 
woman  has  taught  me  to  realise  that  I  am 
no  better  than  she.  We  have  both  sold 
ourselves.  What  is  the  difference  between 
us?  Merely  one  of  conventionality — mor 
ally  we  are  the  same." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  child,"  protested 
Mrs.  Cortland.  "You  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying.  It  is  not  too  late.  You 
need  not  marry  General  Lloyd.  You 
have  been  humiliated  in  public.  You  have 
a  right  to  break  your  engagement." 

Violet  shook  her  head  thoughtfully. 
"No,"  she  said.  "It  would  not  bring  back 
my  self-respect,  nor  the  respect  of  one  I 
might  have  loved  had  I  not  been  a  fool." 

"I  wish  you  would  listen  to  reason,  Vio 
let,"  said  Mrs.  Cortland,  stroking  her  hair 
gently.  "I  am  older  than  you,  and  know 
the  world  better." 

"But  you  do  not  know  all  that  I  have 
done,"  Violet  answered,  looking  up  into 
her  face  hopelessly.  "I  sold  myself  to 
General  Lloyd  in  a  moment  of  pique — a 
moment  of  wounded  pride.  He  has  done 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          263 

what  I  have  asked  of  him.  There  is  honor 
even  among  thieves. 

She  took  both  Mrs.  Cortland's  hands  and 
held  them  tightly.  "Forget  what  I  have 
told  you,"  she  continued.  "The  excite 
ment  made  me  forget  myself. 

"Violet,"  answered  the  elder,  woman, 
"what  you  say  to  me  in  confidence  is  safe. 
But,  for  God's  sake,  break  your  engage 
ment!" 

Violet  shook  her  head  slowly.  "No," 
she  said,  "I  am  going  to  marry  General 
Lloyd.  He  may  insult  me  if  he  likes — he 
may  beat  me,  but  I  am  going  to  marry 
him.  He  has  fulfilled  his  part  of  the  bar 
gain — I  shall  fulfill  mine. ' ' 


XIX 

"IS'T   NOT  A  BRAVE   MAN?" 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  I.  z. 

Violet  stood  in  the  window  of  a  Michigan 
Avenue  hotel,  gazing  at  the  park  below. 
The  panoply  of  war  was  there,  for  Chicago 
was  in  the  throes  of  industrial  strife.  A 
white  city  had  arisen  during  the  night,  and 
now  artillery  frowned  upon  the  crowd 
where  only  yesterday  the  ranting  of  dema 
gogues  had  called  forth  deeds  of  violence. 
Groups  of  blue-coated  soldiers  lay  stretched 
upon  the  grass,  and  bronzed  sentries  paced 
to  and  fro  with  measured  tread.  A  flag 
fluttered  before  the  commandant's  quarters; 
troop-horses  picketed  together  munched 
their  forage  with  peaceful  content,  while 
crouching  before  smouldering  camp-fires 
were  the  company  cooks  preparing  the 
noon-day  meal.  Beyond  the  white  camp 
was  blue  Lake  Michigan,  and  beyond  the 
lake  was  the  hazy  sky  of  summer. 

It  seemed  to  Violet  that  this  tented  city 
264 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          265 

must  have  been  there  always,  so  regularly 
was  it  built,  so  quietly  was  it  ordered — but 
the  dragon's  teeth  of  insurrection  had  been 
sown  but  yesterday.  The  crowd  gazed  in 
sullen  silence  at  the  tawny  warriors,  for 
there  was  an  air  of  earnestness  about  those 
regulars  of  Uncle  Sam,  which  even  the  mob 
respected.  For  days  the  police  and  militia 
had  temporized  with  the  rioters,  until  the 
wheels  of  commerce  were  still,  and  the  glare 
of  burning  freight  cars  lighted  the  sky  by 
night.  Then  the  little  garrison  from  Sheri 
dan  had  marched  quietly  to  the  front,  and 
held  the  mobs  at  bay  until  troops  hurriedly 
summoned  from  distant  posts  arrived  to 
reinforce  the  faithful  command.  Now  an 
army  held  the  strategic  points  in  the  great 
city,  and  those  soldiers  sleeping  there  in 
the  sun  were  merely  the  reserves  kept  in 
readiness  to  march  to  the  place  of  danger. 

Secretary  Duncan  had  been  to  Spring 
field  for  a  needed  rest,  and  Violet  ac 
companied  him.  A  year  ago  nothing  would 
have  persuaded  her  to  visit  Springfield, 
but  her  views  of  life  had  changed  since 
then.  She  was  glad  to  be  away  from  the 
world — away  from  General  Lloyd.  In 


266          THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS 

September  she  was  to  be  married.  She 
counted  the  intervening  hours  like  a  pris 
oner  awaiting  a  death  sentence. 

But  the  quiet  days  at  Springfield  were 
cut  short  by  the  industrial  war.  Secretary 
Duncan  was  summoned  hurriedly  to  Wash 
ington.  He  managed  to  reach  Chicago,  but 
there  his  progress  was  arrested.  Not  a 
train  was  running  to  the  Eastward. 

As  Violet  stood  in  the  window,  gazing  at 
the  camp  below,  she  repeated  to  herself 
these  lines:  "But  four  things  in  this  world 
are:  Power  and  women,  horses  and  war." 

"Power,"  she  said.  "What  is  it? 
Merely  gratified  conceit.  'Horses  and 
war.'  Yes,  I  can  understand  their  fascina 
tion — war,  especially — for  in  war  one  must 
forget  self — that  is,  unless  one  is  a  coward. 
To  forget  self  even  for  a  moment  must  be 
happiness." 

There  was  a  hasty  movement  in  the  crowd 
below.  A  mounted  orderly  passed  through 
the  lines  and  dashed  on  toward  the  com 
mandant's  tent. 

Violet  watched  the  dusty  trooper  dis 
mount,  salute,  and  hand  his  dispatches  to 
the  commanding  officer.  Then  an  order 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          267 

was  given — a  bugle  sounded,  and  a  group 
of  soldiers  stretched  upon  the  grass  were  on 
their  feet  in  an  instant,  hurriedly  saddling 
the  horses  of  their  troop. 

Again  the  bugle  called,  and  the  troopers 
swung  into  the  saddle.  Violet  could  not 
help  admiring  that  swarthy  line  astride 
their  wiry  mounts.  They  were  "business  " 
soldiers,  ready  for  action;  blue  flannel 
shirts,  rakish  slouch  hats,  canvas  belts 
bristling  with  long  thin  cartridges,  a  single 
fluttering  guidon,  and  here  and  there  a  yel 
low  stripe  upon  the  trousers  of  an  officer; 
there  was  none  of  the  pomp  of  the  holiday 
parade. 

A  sharp  order  was  given.  Then,  break 
ing  into  column  of  fours,  the  troops  rode 
through  the  lines  into  the  street.  A  loud 
hiss  arose  from  the  crowd,  answered  by  the 
clear  notes  of  the  bugle;  then  the  clatter  of 
hoofs  resounded  on  the  pavement,  as  the 
command  broke  into  a  trot  and  dashed  off 
down  the  street.  That  officer  riding  at  the 
head  of  the  column — the  gray  campaign 
hat  hid  his  features,  but  Violet  would  have 
known  the  tall,  powerful  figure  anywhere. 
It  was  Jack  Hardy.  A  sudden  thrill  of 


268          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

pleasure  filled  her  heart.  She  leaned  from 
the  window  and  waved  her  hand.  Then 
she  laughed  at  her  foolish  action.  Who 
could  see  her  there,  six  stories  above  the 
street?  Her  soldier!  She  sighed  at  the 
thought.  Oh,  how  irrevocably  she  was 
separated  from  that  officer,  riding  there  at 
the  head  of  his  troop. 

She  looked  long  after  the  line  of  cavalry 
— until  only  a  faint  cloud  of  dust  was  visible 
down  the  long,  straight  boulevard.  Then 
she  turned  away  from  the  window  sadly. 
"Poor  old  Jack,"  she  sighed;  "how  little  I 
understood  him  in  the  old  days.  He  is  a 
man,  every  inch  of  him — a  girl  should  be 
proud  to  love  him," — she  hesitated.  ''And 
I  thought  love  was  so  different.  I  thought  it 
must  be  sudden  and  overwhelming — I 
thought  it  could  not  come  gently  and  grad 
ually,  as  mere  friendship,  until  by  and  by 
it  ripened  into  love.  Yes,  I  thought  a 
great  many  foolish  things  then,  and  now  I 
am  paying  the  price — now,  when  it  is  too 
late."  She  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hands.  "Pride!"  she  cried.  "If  it  were 
not  for  the  pride  which  masters  me,  I  might 
be  happy  even  now. 


THE    VICE    OF   FOOLS          269 

Late  that  afternoon,  Violet  looking  from 
the  window  saw  Jack  Hardy's  troopers  ride 
back  to  camp.  They  rode  slowly  this  time, 
walking  their  horses.  The  commanding 
general  was  talking  earnestly  with  her  fa 
ther  in  the  adjoining  room — the  door  was 
ajar,  and  she  heard  their  words : 

"We  are  powerless,  Mr.  Secretary,"  the 
General  was  saying,  "without  orders  to 
fire." 

"The  President  insists  that  the  riot  can 
be  put  down  without  bloodshed  by  a  suffi 
cient  show  of  force,"  answered  Secretary 
Duncan.  ' '  We  can  order  more  troops  here. ' ' 

"The  President  is  in  Washington.  He 
does  not  know  the  temper  of  the  mob. 
Pardon  me,  Mr.  Secretary,  but  you  your 
self  do  not  know  what  the  troops  have  to 
contend  with." 

"The  mob  has  not  attacked  the  troops 
openly  as  yet,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"No,  but  they  continue  to  destroy  prop 
erty.  It  is  four  days  since  the  Sheridan 
garrison  were  ordered  in,  and  the  riot  grows 
more  formidable  every  hour.  The  entire 
army  would  not  be  sufficient  to  guard  every 
point.  The  mob  grows  more  insolent  every 


270          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

day;  they  think  the  troops  are  afraid  to 
fire.  They  need  one  good  lesson — just  a 
volley  or  two  right  into  them — there  won't 
be  any  trouble  after  that." 

"I  can  't  bear  to  think  of  slaughtering 
innocent  people.  Order  more  troops — the 
batteries  at  Riley;  they  are  afraid  of  artil 
lery." 

"Soldiers  are  not  policemen,  Mr.  Secre 
tary,"  said  the  General  indignantly.  "They 
are  trained  to  fight.  This  work  is  destroy 
ing  their  efficiency;  the  men  have  been 
abused  and  insulted  to  such  an  extent  that 
I  cannot  answer  for  their  discipline  much 
longer.  I  fear  they  will  fire  without  orders, 
and  I  do  n't  know  that  I  will  blame  them, 
either." 

"You  do  not  understand  a  mob,  Gen 
eral,"  answered  the  Secretary.  "Mobs  are 
arrant  cowards;  they  talk,  but  they  don't 
fight — not  with  regulars,  at  least." 

"I  should  like  to  give  orders  to  fire,  just 
once — I  will  answer  for  the  rest.  Chicago 
would  be  as  quiet  as  a  country  village.  Do 
you  remember  ninety-four?  It  was  the 
same  story  then.  When  the  troops  fired, 
it  was  all  over." 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          271 

"And  innocent  people  were  killed." 

"Innocent  people,"  expostulated  the 
General.  "A  man  who  joins  a  mob  isn't 
innocent — if  he  is,  he  deserves  to  be  shot 
for  being  a  fool.  Just  let  me  tell  you  one 
incident  which  happened  only  this  after 
noon,  and  you  will  see  what  my  officers  and 
men  have  to  contend  with.  Fortunately, 
the  right  man  was  in  the  right  place,  or  it 
might  not  have  ended  so  successfully.  A 
mob  of  about  five  thousand  made  a  sudden 
demonstration  against  Slow  &  Co.'s  pack 
ing-house.  It  was  a  new  point  of  attack, 
and  there  were  no  troops  there.  They  tele 
phoned  for  assistance.  I  ordered  B  Troop, 
I2th  Cavalry,  Lieutenant  Hardy  command 
ing,  to  their  relief." 

Violet  started  at  the  mention  of  Jack's 
name.  She  had  seen  the  troops  march 
forth — had  seen  them  return.  She  listened 
attentively  for  the  story  of  their  prowess. 

"When  the  command  arrived,"  the  Gen 
eral  continued,  "the  rioters  were  tearing 
down  the  fence  and  hurling  stones  at  the 
windows.  Hardy  ordered  a  charge — mobs 
do  n't  like  horses — they  hate  to  get  trampled 
on.  So  he  cleared  the  street,  and  taking 


272  THE  VICE   OF   FOOLS 

possession  of  the  packing-house,  threw  out 
his  sentries." 

"Well,"  said  the  Secretary,  "he  did  it 
without  firing,  did  n't  he?" 

"Exactly.  They  run  at  the  first  sight  of 
the  troops — but  when  they  see  they  are 
only  men,  and  only  a  few  of  them  at  that, 
they  get  over  being  afraid  and  come  back. 
When  Lieutenant  Hardy  had  thrown  out 
his  sentries,  he  left  a  sergeant  in  command 
at  the  picket  line  and  ordered  the  troop 
inside  the  big  fence.  Then  the  mob  came 
back — thousands  of  men — howling  and 
shouting.  A  big  butcher  from  the  stock 
yards  was  the  leader.  He  harangued  the 
crowd  about  the  cowardice  of  the  soldiers; 
said  they  were  afraid  to  shoot — all  they 
needed  to  do  was  to  rush  them  and  grab 
their  muskets — there  were  only  ten  of  them 
there — the  others  dare  n't  come  out.  To 
prove  his  words,  he  stepped  up  to  a  sentry 
and  slapped  his  face,  calling  him  a  vile 
name.  The  man,  writhing  under  the  in 
sult,  fingered  the  trigger  of  his  piece,  but 
stood  there  immovable — he  had  his  orders. 
The  crowd  yelled  with  delight.  A  shower 
of  stones  and  sticks  was  their  reply.  One 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          273 

soldier  was  badly  wounded  in  the  face. 
The  butcher,  delighted  with  the  outcome  of 
his  prowess,  stepped  up  to  another  sentry 
and  spat  in  his  face.  This  man  threw  his 
piece  to  his  shoulder.  'Stop!'  cried  the 
sergeant  in  command.  'Not  without 
orders!'  Down  came  the  piece." 

"I  thought  you  could  not  answer  for  the 
discipline,  General,"  laughed  Secretary 
Duncan. 

"Wait  till  you  hear  the  rest,  Mr.  Secre 
tary.  Trembling  with  rage,  the  sergeant 
went  to  Lieutenant  Hardy.  'For  God's 
sake,  sir,  let  the  men  fire,'  he  said  with  tears 
in  his  eyes.  'Not  until  we  are  fired  upon. 
Oui  orders  are  positive.'  Then  the  ser 
geant  told  how  the  sentries  had  been  in 
sulted.  'Men  can  't  stand  that,  Lieuten 
ant,'  he  pleaded.  'The  boys  will  fire 
without  orders.' 

"  'Then  they  will  be  tried  for  murder,' 
said  Hardy  coldly.  The  sergeant  looked 
at  his  officer  beseechingly.  Then,  taking 
off  his  blouse  and  hat  he  threw  them  on  the 
ground.  'There,  sir,'  he  said,  'I  ain't  in 
the  uniform  now.  Let  me  go  out  and  lick 
that  fellow,  won't  you,  sir?'  'Put  on  your 


274         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

blouse,  sergeant,'  answered  Hardy  sternly. 
Then  without  another  word  he  walked 
quickly  out  of  the  gate  and  faced  the  mob. 
The  big  butcher  was  talking  to  the  crowd, 
and  calling  on  them  to  clean  the  soldiers 
out.  When  the  mob  caught  sight  of  Hardy 
they  shouted  with  delight.  'Look  at  the 
dude!'  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  With 
out  a  word,  Hardy  walked  up  to  the 
butcher,  and  touched  him  quickly  on  the 
shoulder.  'Did  you  insult  an  American 
soldier  acting  under  orders?  Answer  me!' 
The  fellow  took  a  step  backward.  Then 
the  mob  jeered.  'Chaw  the  dude  up,  Billy. 
Make  sausage  of  him!'  This  gave  the  bully 
encouragement.  'I  did  spit  in  the  face  of 
a  soldier,  and  I  '11  do  the  same  to  you,'  he 
said.  'You  coward,'  cried  Hardy.  'De 
fend  yourself,  for  I  'm  going  to  knock  you 
down.'  Then  the  butcher  doubled  his 
fists,  and  led  out  at  the  officer,  but  Hardy 
was  too  lively  for  him.  He  made  one  or 
two  beautiful  passes,  and  then,  quick  as  a 
flash,  he  got  in  a  cross-counter,  and  the 
butcher  lay  flat  upon  the  pavement.  The 
crowd  yelled  with  delight.  Hardy  was 
master  of  the  situation  then.  'Boys,'  he 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          275 

said,  turning  around  and  addressing  them, 
'I  'm  here  for  business.  I  'm  not  looking 
for  trouble,  but  I  '11  know  what  to  do  with 
it  when  it  comes.  You  see  those  soldiers 
there?  Each  of  them  can  shoot  a  dozen 
times  a  minute,  and  kill  three  times  out  of 
five  at  three  hundred  yards.  Now,  I  'm 
not  going  to  tell  them  to  shoot  until  I  have 
to,  but  when  I  do,  God  help  you — I  can  't. ' 

"  'Hurrah  for  the  dude!  He  ain't  no 
slouch!'  yelled  the  crowd. 

"  'Now,  boys,'  Hardy  continued,  point 
ing  at  the  butcher  who  had  just  risen  to  his 
feet,  and  was  slinking  away,  'as  long  as  you 
have  n't  got  anything  better  than  that  to 
send  to  the  scratch,  I  sha'n't  worry  much; 
but  my  advice  to  you  is  to  go  quietly 
home,  and  not  monkey  with  a  buzz  saw — 
because  you'll  get  hurt;  the  buzz  saw 
won't.'  He  stopped  then,  and  looked  at 
the  crowd  smiling. 

"  'Three  cheers  for  the  Lieutenant!'  'I 
say,  Mister,  come  around  to  Lacy's  and 
we  '11  buy  you  a  drink!'  'I  '11  back  you 
against  Fitzsimmons!'  and  similar  cries 
showed  the  nature  of  the  crowd.  Then  one 
fellow  got  on  a  barrel,  and  called  out 


276          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

loudly:  'Boys,  there  's  a  company  of  militia 
over  at  the  Wabash  yards.  We  can  have 
some  fun  over  there — we  do  n't  want  to 
stay  here — this  dude  is  too  good  a  fellow  to 
quarrel  with — and  besides,  I  do  n't  want  to 
get  hurt,  do  you?'  With  a  loud  cheer  for 
Hardy,  the  crowd  broke  away  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  Wabash  yards,  but  they  never 
got  there — there  were  too  many  saloons  on 
the  way." 

"Well,"  said  the  Secretary,  ' 'I  do  n't  see 
but  you  have  proved  how  unnecessary  it  is 
to  fire.  If  one  brave  man  can  disperse  a 
mob  alone — " 

"If,"  answered  the  general.  "But  how 
many  officers  like  Hardy  are  there  in  the 
army?" 

"Yes,  Hardy  is  a  soldier,  every  inch 
of  him,"  said  Secretary  Duncan.  "But 
he  certainly  did  not  tell  that  story  him 
self." 

"No,  sir.  His  report  was  simply:  'Mob 
dispersed  quietly  on  appearance  of  com 
mand — await  further  orders.'  I  sent  a 
company  of  infantry  to  relieve  him.  Cav 
alry  is  too  valuable  to  garrison  a  packing 
house.  I  learned  the  story  through  my  in- 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          277 

telligence  service.  You  may  not  know, 
Mr.  Secretary,  that  I  have  a  volunteer 
secret  service  corps — a  lot  of  young  bi 
cyclists,  who  like  to  be  mixed  up  in  a  row 
of  this  sort.  They  have  relay  stations  all 
over  the  city.  Some  of  them  are  in  every 
mob.  If  anything  occurs,  I  get  a  full  re 
port  in  a  very  short  time.  In  that  way  I 
keep  informed  of  the  movements  of  the 
enemy." 

Violet  entered  the  room  quietly.  "Gen 
eral  Wright,"  she  said,  "I  happened  to 
hear  what  you  were  saying.  The  door  was 
open,  and  I  was  too  interested  to  close  it. 
Lieutenant  Hardy  is  an  old  friend  of  mine, 
you  know." 

"Then  you  should  be  proud  of  your 
friend.  He  is  a  brave  man,"  answered  the 
General  with  enthusiasm. 

There  was  a  ring  to  those  words  which 
thrilled  Violet  through  and  through — they 
suggested  strength  and  daring,  and  manli 
ness.  The  General's  story  had  brought 
Jack  nearer  to  her  than  he  had  ever  been 
before.  Lieutenant  Hardy  crushing  that 
bully,  and  facing  the  mob  alone,  was  a  very 
different  person  from  the  quiet,  diffident 


278         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

Jack  who  had  wearied  her  with  too  much 
loving.  He  was  a  hero,  and  deep  in  her 
heart  every  woman  loves  a  hero. 

"A  brave  man!"  She  repeated  those 
words  over  and  over  again  that  night  as  she 
turned  restlessly  in  her  bed.  In  vain  she 
tried  to  close  her  eyes,  but  the  events  of  the 
year  rushed  confusedly  through  her  brain. 
Crafty  Ritchie  Maitland,  with  no  more 
manliness  than  a  crawling  worm — she 
shuddered  at  the  thought  of  him.  Yet  he 
had  fascinated  her  once.  And  the  man  she 
was  going  to  marry — that  cold,  circumspect 
politician,  with  his  brutal  views  of  woman 
hood  and  love — it  had  been  so  easy  to  give 
herself  to  him  in  a  moment  of  anger — to 
sell  herself  for  power  and  riches.  She  had 
forsworn  the  hope  of  love — and  now,  when 
it  was  too  late — "Fool!"  she  said  aloud, 
in  anger,  "what  right  have  you  to  any  other 
fate?"  But  she  could  not  sleep.  She  was 
thinking  of  Jack  Hardy — the  one  man  in 
all  the  world  whom  she  might  love,  were 
love  possible.  The  thought  came  to  her 
that  she  might  break  her  promise  to  Gen 
eral  Lloyd.  But  pride  was  her  besetting 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          279 

vice.  "Never,"  she  cried;  "never  will  I 
break  my  word." 

The  first  ray  of  morning  entered  the 
room.  Violet  sprang  from  her  bed  impul 
sively  and  ran  to  the  open  window.  She 
had  not  slept  the  entire  night  long,  and  she 
welcomed  the  day. 

In  the  park  below  was  the  sleeping  camp, 
gray  and  shadowy.  Before  the  guard  tent, 
a  group  of  gnome-like  figures  crouched  be 
fore  a  fire.  The  measured  beat  of  the  sen 
tries'  feet  echoed  from  the  pavement.  All 
else  was  silence.  Beyond  the  park  was 
slumbering  Michigan,  calm  and  silvery. 
Fleecy  clouds  floated  among  the  stars, 
while,  hovering  low  above  the  water,  was  a 
bank  of  purple  mist.  Across  the  sky  came 
a  glow  of  orange  light — the  shadowy  grass 
below  grew  mossy  green,  and  golden  ripples 
danced  upon  the  lake.  The  clear  notes  of 
a  distant  trumpet  were  echoed  nearer  and 
nearer,  from  camp  to  camp,  and  sleepy  sol 
diers  groping  from  their  tents  formed  shad 
owy  lines  of  blue,  in  obedience  to  reveille 
call.  Then  the  sky  glowed  crimson,  and 
the  sun  disc  rose  above  the  lake,  birds 


28o         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

twittered,  and  the  noises  of  the  day  broke 
forth.  A  tall  officer  was  standing  before 
his  tent,  and  Violet  knew,  as  she  gazed  at 
his  familiar  form,  that  the  love  for  which 
she  had  waited  so  long  had  dawned. 


XX 

"  FOR   LOVE  OF   YOU,  NOT  HATE." 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Veronat  III.  i. 

Amid  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  clank  of  scab 
bards,  Troop  B,  1 2th  Cavalry,  swept  through 
the  sally-port  at  Fort  Sheridan.  There 
was  a  glint  of  yellow  plumes  above  a  cloud 
of  dust — then  a  sharp  command,  and  the 
sun-burned  troopers  swung  into  line  from 
columns  of  fours,  and  trotted  on  to  the 
quickstep  music  of  the  band. 

There  were  other  troops  of  horse — a  regi 
ment  in  all  —  manoeuvring  in  squadron 
formation,  with  fluttering  guidons  and 
sabres  flashing  in  the  light  of  the  setting 
sun.  From  the  barracks  and  the  camp  be 
yond  they  came  with  mounted  band,  and 
brilliant  officers  with  caracoling  chargers,  to 
parade  before  the  Secretary  of  War. 

It  was   a    sight    to    thrill — with    all    the 

splendor  and  glitter  of  military  pomp ;  but 

to  Violet  it  seemed  tawdry  and  spectacular 

— after  the  war  scenes  of  the  fortnight  be- 

281 


282          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

fore.  There  was  Jack  Hardy  riding  in 
command  of  Troop  B,  with  head  erect  and 
eyes  straight  to  the  front — but  the  gilded 
shoulder-knots  and  the  yellow  plumes,  the 
helmet  cord  and  the  horse  trappings — it  re 
minded  her  of  Washington,  and  the  carpet 
soldiers  there.  She  thought  of  Troop  B  as 
she  had  seen  them  ride  forth  from  camp — 
"business  "  soldiers,  with  gray  slouch  hats 
and  flannel  shirts,  with  canvas  belts,  and 
carbines  swinging  from  the  saddle-trees 
— and  her  heart  thrilled  with  pride.  But 
that  glittering  dragoon — was  it  the  earnest 
soldier  who  had  faced  a  mob  alone — the 
brave  officer  who  won  his  general's  praise — 
the  man  she  loved? 

She  trembled  at  the  thought  of  love,  and 
turned  her  face  away.  Duty  bound  her  to 
another.  Was  it  duty  or  pride?  She 
asked  herself  the  question  and  laughed — 
then  a  hard  look  came  into  her  eyes.  She 
would  crush  that  new-born  love;  crush  it 
as  a  thing  which  could  never  be. 

There  was  a  dance  at  the  Officers'  Mess 
that  evening ;  three  thousand  regulars  were 
camped  at  the  post — the  army  which  had 
defended  Chicago.  Now  that  the  strikes 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS         283 

were  over,  there  were  to  be  manoeuvres  and 
practice  marches,  before  the  troops  were 
dispatched  to  their  various  posts. 

It  was  a  gala  night  at  Fort  Sheridan. 
The  visiting  officers  swelled  the  ranks  of  the 
dancing  men,  and  maids  and  matrons  came 
from  miles  around. 

Violet,  who  had  dined  with  the  com 
manding  officer,  came  late  to  the  dance. 
As  she  entered  the  room  the  band  was  play 
ing  a  lively  two-step.  The  floor  was  filled 
with  dancers — a  confusion  of  ribbons  and 
tulle,  gilt  buttons  and  broad  stripes  of  red, 
yellow,  and  white. 

Jack  Hardy  stood  by  the  door — he  had 
no  heart  for  dancing.  Violet  was  at  the 
post,  and  was  expected  at  the  ball.  He  had 
not  seen  her  since  the  parting  in  Washing 
ton,  yet  the  thought  of  meeting  her  was 
painful. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  not  bear 
to  look  into  her  face  again. 

He  heard  the  flutter  of  a  dress  behind 
him;  he  trembled,  for  he  knew  that  it  was 
Violet. 

"Jack, "  she  said;  "aren't  yougoing  to 
speak  to  me?" 


284         THE   VICE    OF  FOOLS 

He  took  her  hand  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way. 
There  was  much  that  he  wished  to  say,  but 
the  words  were  not  forthcoming. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  he  faltered 
finally 

"You  do  n't  act  glad,  Jack,"  said  Violet. 
"You  look  as  though  you  'd  lost  your  last 
friend." 

She  had  thought  she  could  meet  him 
without  embarrassment,  but  there  was  a 
different  feeling  in  her  heart  from  anything 
she  had  known  before — a  feeling  of  un- 
worthiness  and  reverence.  She  had  tried 
to  talk  to  him  in  the  old  bantering  way,  but 
her  words  sounded  silly  and  childish. 

"Violet,"  said  Hardy  suddenly,  "come 
with  me,  won't  you?  I  want  to  talk  with 
you.  You  know  it  is  a  long  time  since  I 
have  seen  you." 

"Yes,"  she  answered  slowly,  "a  very 
long  time." 

They  walked  together  in  the  moonlight. 
The  wind  soughed  through  the  trees,  and 
from  the  ball-room  came  the  distant  strains 
of  music.  In  silence  they  passed  one  after 
another  of  the  pretty  officers'  houses  lining 


THE   VICE    OF    FOOLS          285 

the  way.  Each  had  so  much  to  say,  yet 
each  hesitated  to  speak. 

"You  had  better  put  this  around  you," 
said  Hardy  finally,  throwing  a  yellow-lined 
cloak  over  her  shoulders.  "It  is  very  chilly 
here." 

"Thank  you,  Jack,"  she  answered,  with 
a  shiver.  She  was  frightened  at  her  own 
feebleness.  They  reached  the  bluff  by  the 
lake.  The  brilliant  moonlight  cast  sombre 
shadows  about  them.  Below  on  the  beach 
the  combing  surf  sent  its  spray  hissing  over 
the  sand  in  a  myriad  of  silvery  snakes. 

He  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 
"It  was  unkind  of  you,  Violet,  not  to  tell 
me  of  your  engagement — to  let  me  hear  of 
it  from  others." 

He  said  this  because  it  was  uppermost  in 
his  thoughts — he  had  not  meant  to  say  it. 

"I  did  write  you,  Jack;  believe  me,  I 
did.  I  was  afraid  to  send  the  letter." 

"Afraid,"  he  repeated.  "I  do  not  un 
derstand.  Why  should  you  be  afraid?" 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "Be 
cause  my  whole  life  has  been  one  horrible 
mistake.  I  have  had  two  selves;  one  all 


286         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

ambition  and  pride,  urging  me  on  to  acts  of 
vanity,  making  me  what  all  the  world  thinks 
me  —  a  heartless  flirt;  the  other — oh,  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  what  my  life  might 
have  been  had  the  other  self  been  stronger. 
Now,  when  it  is  too  late — " 

"Too  late,  Violet!"  he  exclaimed.  "Is 
it  too  late?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  looking  over  the 
moonlit  lake.  "Nothing  can  change  me 
now.  I  am  what  I  have  made  myself." 

"I  believe  in  you,  Violet;  I  shall  always 
believe  in  you. 

"Do  n't,  Jack,  do  n't  say  that,"  she  pro 
tested.  "You  are  too  noble  to  understand 
such  a  mean  person  as  I  am.  Despise  me; 
I  wish  you  would.  I  should  feel  happier. 
But  to  have  you  believe  in  me,  even  now — 
I  can  't  stand  that." 

He  looked  into  her  face  long  and  earn 
estly. 

"I  love  you,  Violet.  I  shall  love  you 
always,"  he  said,  trembling. 

It  was  the  cry  of  his  soul  to  hers.  Sud 
denly  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck 
and  kissed  him.  For  a  brief  moment  she 
felt  the  caress  of  his  strong  arms — felt  the 


"  'NOW    \\HEN    IT    IS    TOO    LATE. 


THE    VICE   OF    FOOLS          287 

fervent  touch  of  his  lips — then  with  a  cry 
of  pain  she  pushed  him  from  her. 

"I  hate  you,"  she  said;  "I  hate  you. 
Never  let  me  see  you  again." 

He  seized  her  hand,  not  understanding 
her  words. 

"Violet,  my  darling,"  he  cried,  "what 
do  you  mean?" 

She  snatched  her  hand  from  his  grasp. 

"Don't  come  near  me.  I  hate  you — 
can  't  you  hear  that — I  hate  you — never  let 
me  see  you  again — never  so  long  as  you 
live." 

He  stood  there  like  one  stunned,  unable 
to  speak,  unable  to  comprehend  the  mean 
ing  of  her  words. 

She  laughed — a  short  hysterical  laugh. 

"I  am  going  to  marry  General  Lloyd,  not 
you,"  she  cried.  "I  am  going  to  have 
power — yes,  power.  I  have  no  heart — I 
cannot  love.  You  may  have  the  love,  the 
horses  and  the  war. 

Then  she  turned  suddenly,  and  ran 
quickly  back  through  the  woods.  Jack 
Hardy  stood  there  gazing  into  the  dark 
ness.  He  heard  her  laughter  echo  through 
the  trees;  he  heard  the  distant  strains  of 


288         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

the  regimental  band  playing  for  the  throng 
of  dancers — but  he  did  not  hear  the  low 
cry  of  anguish  which  came  from  Violet's 
lips:  "I  have  broken  his  heart  and  mine, 
but  I  could  not  break  my  word." 


XXI 

"LOVE'S  FULL  SACRIFICE." 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  I.  2. 

"You  are  tired,  dear;  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  be  alone?" 

General  Lloyd  said  this  with  an  attempt 
at  tenderness.  He  stood  in  the  door  of  his 
room,  looking  at  Violet. 

•  She  did  not  reply.  She  had  thrown  her 
self  upon  a  lounge,  and  lay  with  her  face 
buried  in  the  cushion. 

He  closed  the  door  quietly,  and  left  the 
room. 

Married!  Violet  shuddered  at  the 
thought.  That  day  seemed  an  age.  Yet 
it  was  only  evening.  In  a  vague  way  she 
recalled  the  church,  crowded  with  the  faces 
of  her  friends,  the  altar  and  the  flowers. 
She  heard  the  droning  of  the  clergyman's 
voice  and  her  own  replies,  spoken  mechanic 
ally.  But  there  was  one  vision  so  real,  so 
hopeless,  that  the  memory  filled  her  heart 
with  despair.  Jack  Hardy  sat  in  the  body 
289 


290          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

of  the  church.  As  she  passed  by,  on  the 
arm  of  her  husband,  she  met  his  reproachful 
glance.  She  saw  his  pale,  desperate  face, 
and  she  realised  the  awfulness  of  the  step 
she  had  taken;  every  act  in  her  life  came 
back.  She  had  been  swept  on  by  a  torrent 
of  pride  and  vain-glory,  until,  like  a  drown 
ing  man,  she  felt  the  waters  close  above  her. 

Jack  Hardy,  the  man  she  loved;  her 
heart  cried  out  to  him  for  pardon.  In 
wrecking  his  life  she  had  wrecked  her  own 
happiness — the  punishment  was  meet,  so  far 
as  she  was  concerned,  but  why  should  he 
suffer? 

She  had  turned  away  from  him  in  laugh 
ter,  with  words  of  hatred  on  her  lips,  at  the 
moment  when  she  might  have  realised  the 
love  for  which  her  soul  was  starving.  Since 
then,  he  had  come  to  her  again  and  again, 
but  she  had  refused  to  see  him — the  door 
of  her  house  had  been  closed  against  him. 
She  loved  him,  but  pride  had  been  more 
powerful  than  love,  and  now  the  end 
had  come — the  end  of  everything.  She 
clutched  the  cushions  of  the  lounge  and 
sobbed.  Again  she  thought  of  the  church 
and  the  altar,  and  of  her  own  words,  spoken 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          291 

so  deliberately — the  words  which  bound  her 
forever  to  that  old  gray-haired  man.  She 
prayed  that  she  might  die.  Vain  fool  that 
she  was,  no  one  could  pity  her,  she  could 
not  even  pity  herself — for  had  she  not  ac 
complished  the  ruin  of  her  happiness  alone 
and  unaided?  Then,  for  a  moment,  she 
was  tempted  to  cast  honor  and  everything 
away.  She  longed  to  go  to  Jack  Hardy 
and  implore  his  forgiveness.  She  would 
defy  the  opinion  of  the  world ;  she  would 
give  herself  to  him. 

General  Lloyd  opened  the  door  quietly. 
"It  is  getting  late,  Violet,"  he  said. 

His  words  startled  her;  she  looked  up 
suddenly.  For  a  moment  she  wondered 
why  he  was  there. 

"Do  you  know  you  have  been  here  nearly 
an  hour?"  he 'said. 

"Have  I?"  she  answered  vacantly.  "I 
thought  you  had  just  gone." 

He  came  toward  her,  and  sat  down  beside 
her;  she  felt  him  place  his  arm  about  her 
waist.  She  trembled  and  drew  herself 
away. 

His  face  hardened.  "As  you  will,"  he 
said. 


292          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"Forgive  me,"  she  answered  meekly.  "I 
am  very  tired;  my  head  aches.  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  a  band  of  iron  about  my  tem 
ples." 

"Violet,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hair; 
"you  do  not  love  me." 

"Why  do  you  expect  it?"  she  answered. 
"You  know  the  bargain  we  made." 

"I  know  that  I  love  you,"  he  cried, 
throwing  his  arms  about  her;  "you  cruel, 
fascinating  creature.  You  are  my  wife ;  do 
you  hear,  my  wife." 

"Yes,  I  am  your  wife,"  she  said  coldly. 
"You  may  beat  me  if  you  like." 

He  glared  at  her  angrily.  "Take  care," 
he  said;  "there  is  a  limit  to  my  patience." 

"Why  do  you  talk  to  me  now?"  she 
asked  suddenly.  "Can  't  you  see  that  I 
am  tired.  If  you  were  generous,  you  would 
leave  me  alone  to-night.  You  would  let 
me  rest.  Perhaps,  to-morrow  it  will  be 
different.  Oh,  let  me  rest  to-night.  Let 
me  think." 

She  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  she 
said  this,  and  looked  into  his  face  pleadingly. 

"If  you  wish  it,"  he  said  suddenly,  leav 
ing  the  seat  beside  her. 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          293 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered. 

He  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  then  he 
turned  and  looked  at  her;  she  did  not  notice 
him,  she  was  staring  vacantly  before  her. 

"Shall  I  accompany  you  to  your  room?" 
he  asked. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  shall  be  well  enough 
here,  the  first  sleep  here." 

"You  are  ill,  Violet." 

"Yes,  I  am  ill,  my  head  burns  with  fever. 
Leave  me,  I  beg  you." 

"I  will  leave  you,  but  to-morrow,  I  shall 
demand  an  answer  to  one  question." 

"As  well  now  as  then,"  she  said. 

"Then  why  did  you  marry  me?" 

"Because  I  thought  you  were  stronger 
than  I ;  because  you  would  compel  me  to 
obey  you ;  because  my  heart  is  broken. 
That  was  what  you  wished,  was  it  not — a 
wife  whose  heart  had  been  broken. ' ' 

"Yes,"  he  answered  coldly,  "that  was 
what  I  wished — a  wife  who  will  walk  in  the 
only  path  possible." 

"And  if  I  rebel;  if  I  desert  you?"  she 
said  looking  at  him  curiously. 

"I  believe  I  should  kill  you." 

She   laughed.      "As   well    that    as    any- 


294          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

thing.  I  will  warn  you  in  time.  I  will  let 
you  know,  so  that  you  may  have  your  re 
venge — " 

"Violet,"  he  cried,  "if  you  were  not  so 
cruel  and  so  cold,  I  should  hate  you,  but 
you  make  me  love  you.  I  cannot  help  it." 

"Have  you  forgotten  your  promise?"  she 
asked.  "You  promised  to  leave  me  alone 
to-night." 

"And  I  shall  keep  my  word,"  he  an 
swered. 

The  door  closed  behind  him.  She  knew 
she  was  alone.  Quickly  she  ran  toward 
the  door  leading  to  the  hotel  veranda,  and 
threw  it  wide  open. 

"I  wish  to  breathe,"  she  cried.  "When 
he  is  here,  he  robs  me  of  the  air." 

She  stood  there  gazing  at  the  waters  of 
Hampton  Roads.  A  fleet  of  warships  lay 
at  anchor — huge  iron  monsters  looming  in 
the  moonlight.  A  ship's  bell  clanged  forth 
the  hour  of  eleven — then  a  bugle  from  the 
fortress  beyond  sounded  clear  on  the  night 
air.  Her  heart  beat  faster.  The  water  and 
the  moonlight,  and  that  army  bugle  sounding 
the  familiar  notes  of  "taps:"  it  made  her 
think  of  distant  Sheridan,  and  that  mo- 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          295 

ment  by  the  lake,  when  she  had  forsworn 
love  and  happiness. 

She  was  startled  by  a  step  upon  the  ver 
anda.  Looking  up,  she  saw  a  man  ap 
proaching  quickly.  He  was  wrapped  in  the 
folds  of  a  military  cloak.  She  took  a  step 
backward  into  her  room.  As  she  did  so 
the  moonlight  fell  on  the  man's  face. 

"Jack!"  she  exclaimed. 

He  started  back.  "Violet!  Oh,  I  beg 
pardon,  Mrs.  Lloyd — " 

She  put  out  her  hand.  "Do  n't  Jack," 
she  said.  "Do  n't  be  cruel  to  me.  I  could 
not  stand  it.  I  have  suffered  so  much 
already. ' ' 

"I  thought  you  only  made  others  suffer," 
he  said  coldly.  "I  wanted  to  forget  you. 
Why  have  you  come  into  my  life  again?" 
His  lips  were  pressed  together;  he  was 
breathing  quickly. 

She  took  a  step  toward  him,  and  placed 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"I  knew  you  would  come.  Something 
told  me  you  would  come." 

He  turned  away.  "I  am  here  on  duty, 
as  aide  to  General  Wright,"  he  said  with  an 
effort.  "He  is  inspecting  the  coast  defenses. 


296         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

I  did  not  follow  you.  Thank  heaven,  I  am 
not  so  weak  as  that. ' ' 

She  took  both  his  hands  in  hers.  "For 
give  me,  Jack — oh,  forgive  me,"  she  said 
pleadingly. 

' '  Forgive  you, ' '  he  answered  with  a  laugh. 
"It  is  easy  to  forgive.  You  have  broken 
my  heart — that  is  all.  Yes,  I  forgive  you." 

"Oh,  Jack,"  she  cried,  "if  you  only 
knew  how  I  have  suffered." 

"Suffered,"  he  replied.  "You  do  not 
know  what  it  is  to  suffer — not  until  you 
have  loved  as  I  have  loved." 

"Don't,  Jack.  You  are  killing  me." 
She  closed  her  eyes ;  she  dared  not  meet  his 
glance. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  there  thinking. 
It  seemed  so  terrible  to  be  there  with  her, 
to  feel  the  pressure  of  her  hands,  and  to 
know  it  was  for  the  last  time. 

"Ah,  Violet!"  he  cried  impulsively. 
"Why  did  you  let  me  know  for  one  blessed 
moment  that  you  loved  me,  and  then  leave 
me  so  cruelly.  You  did  love  me  that  night 
at  Sheridan.  I  saw  it  in  your  eyes.  Why 
did  you  leave  me?  There  must  have  been 
a  reason.' 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          297 

She  bowed  her  head  in  shame. 

"There  is  a  reason,"  she  said.  "In  a 
moment  of  anger  I  promised  to  marry  Gen 
eral  Lloyd,  in  order  that  I  might  be  re 
venged  for  the  neglect  of  a  man  who  fas 
cinated  me  for  a  few  short  weeks.  I  was 
too  proud  to  break  my  word,  even  though 
it  broke  your  heart  and  mine." 

She  spoke  each  word  slowly  and  deliber 
ately.  It  seemed  a  relief  to  speak  the  truth. 

He  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"And  you  call  that  a  reason,"  he  said. 

"Forgive  me,  Jack.  It  is  I  who  must 
suffer  now." 

"I  have  forgiven  you,"  he  answered, 
then  he  turned  away  abruptly — the  pain 
was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"Don't,  Jack.  Don't  leave  me — not 
like  that." 

He  was  afraid  to  answer — afraid,  lest  in 
speaking,  he  might  prove  his  weakness. 
With  an  effort  of  despair,  he  took  a  step 
away  from  her. 

.     "Come    back,    Jack;    come    back,"    she 
cried,  seizing  his  arm. 

"What  would  be  the  use,"  he  asked.  "I 
have  no  right  to  stay." 


298          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"You  shall  not  leave  me.  I  love  you, 
Jack.  Can  't  you  see  that  I  love  you?" 
She  looked  into  his  face.  There  was  no 
mistaking  the  love  in  those  eyes. 

"Don't  tempt  me,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
turning  away. 

"Ah,  Jack.  You  do  not  love  me.  It  is 
I  who  suffer  now." 

"Love  you,  Violet.  I  would  die  for 
you." 

One  moment,  and  she  was  in  his  arms. 
The  tremor  of  her  lips  told  him  of  the  love 
he  had  awakened. 

Her  soft  fragrant  hair  touched  his  face. 
Oh,  the  ecstacy  of  that  moment.  He  had 
waited  for  it  so  long. 

"Violet,"  he  said;  "I  have  never  lived 
till  now." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"I  am  yours,  Jack.  Do  with  me  as  you 
will." 

She  was  his  now.  No  one  should  tear 
her  from  him.  What  did  he  care  for  the 
opinion  of  the  world.  She  belonged  to 
him;  no  power  could  make  him  give 
her  up. 

"Violet,"    he  whispered;    "you   are  not 


THE    VICE    OF    FOOLS          299 

his  wife,  not  yet.  Will  you  go  with  me — 
now — before  it  is  too  late?" 

She  trembled,  then  slowly  she  turned 
toward  him,  and  raised  her  lips  to  his. 

"Your  hus — General  Lloyd,  I  mean. 
Where  is  he?"  he  asked. 

She  turned  her  face  away. 

"He  is  in  his  room;  he  promised  I 
should  be  alone  to-night;"  she  shuddered 
at  the  sound  of  her  words.  "Oh,  Jack,  it 
is  all  so  terrible,"  she  said,  burying  her  face 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Violet,"  he  whispered.  "I  want  you 
to  know  what  you  are  doing  now,  before  it 
is  too  late." 

"I  know,  Jack,"  she  said.  "I  must  go. 
I  could  not  live  without  you." 

Then  she  left  him  suddenly. 

"Wait,"  she  whispered.  "I  will  be 
back.  I  cannot  go  as  I  am." 

He  stood  there,  waiting  for  her  to  re 
turn.  It  had  all  happened  so  suddenly, 
that  he  could  not  realise  the  love  he  had 
awakened.  It  seemed  like  a  dream.  But, 
Violet's  eyes  had  burned  into  his  soul  as 
they  had  that  night  at  Sheridan ;  her  kisses 
were  upon  his  lips.  Yes,  the  love  for  which 


300          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

he  had  waited  so  long  had  come  at  last. 
She  had  given  herself  to  him,  for  better  or 
for  worse.  He  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  those  words.  Ah,  how  distant  it  seemed ; 
that  church  with  the  altar  and  the  flowers, 
and  Violet,  the  bride,  meeting  the  hopeless 
glance  of  his  eyes  suddenly,  and  turning 
from  him.  Now  she  was  his,  but  the 
thought  seemed  less  pleasing.  He  could 
not  forget  the  altar  and  the  flowers,  nor 
the  vows  he  had  heard,  binding  her  to  an 
other.  He  drew  his  cloak  about  him  more 
tightly.  It  was  chilly  there,  in  the  night, 
and  the  thought  of  the  future  frightened 
him. 

Violet  stood  in  the  doorway.  "Jack," 
she  whispered.  "I  am  ready." 

He  went  to  her  quickly ;  she  trembled  at 
his  approach ;  her  eyes  looked  up  into  his 
face  pleadingly.  He  kissed  her — the  lips 
were  cold. 

"Are  you  sure,  Jack,  that  it  is  for  the 
best?"  she  asked. 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his.  "Are 
you  afraid,  dearest?"  he  said,  looking  into 
her  eyes. 

"I   love  you,"  she   answered,  "with  my 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          301 

whole  soul  I  love  you,  but  would  you  be 
happy  with  me  now.  You  understand,  dear 
— the  world — can  we  defy  it?" 

"No,  Violet,"  he  cried  impulsively,  "a 
thousand  times  no.  I  see  it  now  as  you  see 
it — each  hour,  each  moment  that  we  lived 
we  would  regret  it." 

"Ah,  dearest,"  she  said.  "I  knew  you 
were  brave  and  generous  and  would  under 
stand.  While  I  was  in  there  alone — it  all 
seemed  so  terrible — the  thought  that  they 
would  turn  from  us — because — because  we 
had  sinned." 

His  arms  closed  about  her  tenderly.  A 
new  light  was  in  her  eyes,  the  fire  and  the 
passion  were  gone — the  fire  which  had 
burned  through  his  soul. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Your  duty  is  to  him. 
I  am  going  now.  I  dare  not  stay.  Wher 
ever  you  are,  whatever  you  are  doing,  re 
member  that  I  love  you.  I  belong  to  you, 
Violet,  now  and  forever." 

He  kissed  her,  knowing  it  was  for  the  last 
time;  but  that  kiss  made  him  braver — he 
could  look  into  her  eyes  now,  and  feel  that 
the  happiness  of  that  moment  was  to  en 
dure  always. 


302          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

"I  love  you,  Jack,"  she  said,  tenderly. 
"I  shall  love  you  always.  Good-bye,  dear 
est,  good-bye." 

In  a  moment  he  had  gone.  She  stood 
there  alone,  gazing  into  the  night,  listening 
to  the  last  echo  of  his  step. 

"Ah,  how  bitter  the  lesson,"  she  sighed. 
"The  lesson  of  pride." 

Then  she  turned  away,  thankful  for  that 
one  moment  of  happiness. 

She  started  back  suddenly,  trembling  and 
frightened.  General  Lloyd  stood  in  the 
doorway. 

"Do  not  be  frightened,"  he  said;  "you 
have  nothing  to  fear." 

She  saw  the  look  in  his  face.  It  was 
different  from  any  she  had  seen  before. 

"You  were  there,"  she  said.  "You 
heard?" 

"Yes,  Violet,"  he  answered.  "The  win 
dow  of  my  room  was  open.  I  heard  all — " 

"And  you  did  not  come — you  did  not — " 

"Kill  you,"  he  laughed.  "Yes,  I  almost 
did.  See,  I  was  ready,"  he  said,  raising 
the  pistol  he  held  in  his  hand. 

She  shuddered. 


THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS          303 

"There  is  nothing  to  fear,  Violet.  I 
have  learned  much  to-night.  I  know  now 
why  you  can  never  love  me.  I  have  learned 
what  love  is — " 

"And  you  can  forgive?"  she  asked. 

"Forgive,"  he  said.  "I  thank  both  of 
you,  for  you  have  taught  me  a  lesson.  I 
never  knew  before  what  it  was  to  be  gener 
ous,  and  brave.  I  have  lived  for  selfishness 
alone.  I  have  made  others  suffer  to  gratify 
me.  I  have  scoffed  at  virtue  and  love,  and 
all  that  was  good;  but  you,  Violet,  have 
taught  me  to-night,  that  there  is  more  in 
life  than  mere  pleasure." 

"Ah,  but  how  near  I  came  to  forgetting 
it,"  she  said. 

"And  how  much  cause  you  had  to  forget 
it.  In  my  heart  I  could  not  have  blamed 
you.  I  had  no  right  to  expect  your 
love. 

He  came  toward  her.  Taking  her  hand,  he 
said  gently: 

"Violet,  dear,  I  will  not  even  ask  you 
to  make  the  pretense  of  loving  me.  Let  us 
go  through  life — as  we  do  this  night — each 
apart.  Let  us  be  friends,  that  is  all.  Per- 


304          THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

haps  together  we  can  do  some  good  in  the 
world,  and  in  a  measure  undo  the  terrible 
mistake  you  have  made." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  tenderly.     She 
could  not  find  the  words  to  thank  him. 


'  MRS.    CORTLAND   WAS  ALONE.' 


XXII 

"I  LAUGH  TO  SEE  YOUR  LADYSHIP  SO  FOND." 

Henry  VI,  III.  /. 

The  band  ceased  playing.  Mrs.  Cort- 
land  stifled  a  yawn.  She  was  very  much 
bored.  It  was  an  "off  season"  at  New 
port;  except  on  Sunday,  men  were  a  rare 
commodity,  and  on  Sunday  they  all  played 
golf.  The  coterie  of  diplomats,  usually  so 
ubiquitous  there,  was  scattered  along  the 
coast,  mostly  at  New  London. 

•Mrs.  Cortland  glanced  about  the  grounds 
of  the  Casino ;  there  was  no  one  there  ex 
cept  some  women,  quite  as  bored  as  herself, 
and  a  sprinkling  of  old  men  and  college 
boys. 

The  situation  was  growing  desperate. 

She  wished  she  had  gone  to  Europe,  that 
summer,  as  she  had  intended;  now  Bar 
Harbor  seemed  the  only  alternative. 

Again  she  stifled  a  yawn. 

She  heard  a  step  behind  her.  It  was  the 
step  of  a  man.  She  turned  her  head 
305 


306         THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS 

slightly.  "Why!"  she  exclaimed,  "where 
on  earth  did  you  come  from?" 

Komlossy  quickened  his  pace,  and  came 
toward  her. 

"I  came  from  Japan  to  see  you,"  he 
said. 

"I  fear  Japan  has  not  improved  your 
veracity.  Sit  down,  and  tell  me  the  truth. 
What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"You  may  not  believe  me,"  Komlossy 
said,  as  he  took  the  seat  beside  her;  "but  I 
repeat  again  that  I  came  to  see  you." 

"Not  all  the  way  from  Japan.  That  is 
too  large  an  order  for  even  my  credulity." 

"Well,  to  be  very  truthful,  from  New 
York.  I  arrived  there  yesterday.  Three 
weeks  at  sea,  a  week  in  the  train.  I  could 
not  sail  until  Saturday.  I  was  terribly 
bored.  I  thought  of  you,  and  here  I  am." 

"Now  we  are  getting  at  the  truth,  so  I 
am  merely  an  after-thought." 

Komlossy  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 
"You  are  the  only  woman  who  is  a  thought 
of  any  kind ;  you  ought  to  be  very  much 
complimented." 

"At  being  considered  an  antidote  for 
boredom." 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS          307 

"No,  at  being  remembered  fondly  for 
two  whole  years.  You  forget  I  have  been 
in  Japan. 

"Ah,  I  begin  to  see  it  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Cortland,  dryly.  "I  suppose  that  is  a  com 
pliment,  judging  by  all  one  hears  about  the 
charms  of  the — the  Geisha — is  that  what 
you  call  it?" 

"My  dear  madame,  I  am  serious  so  sel 
dom  that  it  is  uncharitable  not  to  encour 
age  me  in  my  admiration  of  your  charming 
self.  When  a  man  of  my  age  fosters  a  mad 
passion  for  two  whole  years,  in  such  a  dis 
tant  corner  of  the  earth  as  Japan,  he  de 
serves  to  be  encouraged." 

Mrs.  Cortland  looked  at  him  quizzically. 
Then  she  laughed.  "And  you  expect  me 
to  believe  that?"  she  said. 

"Implicitly." 

"Really,  Komlossy,  you  should  not  trifle 
so  with  my  young  affections.  You  are  old 
enough  to  know  better." 

Komlossy  smiled.  "I  am  a  serious  man. 
I  am  ambassador  now — ambassadors  are 
always  serious." 

"Ah,  yes.  I  heard  of  your  promotion. 
Paris.  How  unfortunate.  You  will  never 


308         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

live  to  enjoy  your  luck.  There  are  too 
many  good  cooks  there.  You  will  die  of 
indigestion  within  a  month." 

He  scowled.  "I  regret  having  come  to 
Newport,"  he  said. 

1  'In  other  words  you  could  not  have  been 
more  bored  in  New  York. 

"Exactly,  but  I  will  give  you  one  more 
chance  to  redeem  yourself.  Tell  me  all  the 
gossip. ' ' 

"That  is  uncomplimentary,  only  old 
women  gossip. ' ' 

"Well,  tell  me  the  news  then.  You  re 
member  I  have  been  out  of  the  world." 

"News,"  she  said,  "that  is  different.  I 
suppose  I  must  do  something  to  keep  you 
here — men  are  at  a  premium  in  Newport. 
Let  me  see,  what  would  interest  you — ah, 
I  have  it.  General  Lloyd's  death.  Have 
you  heard  about  it?" 

"Really!"  he  exclaimed.  "That  is  news. 
No,  I  had  not  heard." 

"Yes,  he  died  last  week." 

"How  seldom  a  man  dies  at  the  right 
time.  It  must  be  a  great  relief  to  his  wife." 

"I  am  not  quite  sure  about  that,"  said 
Mrs,  Cortland,  thoughtfully.  "You  see, 


THE   VICE    OF   FOOLS         309 

Violet  turned  out  very  differently  from 
what  we  all  expected." 

"She  spent  his  money,  did  n't  she?" 

"Yes,  but  not  in  the  way  we  expected. 
They  lived  quietly  in  the  country.  The 
General  gave  up  politics,  Violet  gave  up 
society,  and  they  both  went  in  for  philan 
thropy — waifs'  missions,  hospitals,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  actually  believe  they 
were  fond  of  each  other,  or  of  the  hospitals. 
I  could  never  make  out  which." 

"How  banale,"  said  the  Hungarian  in 
disgust. 

"You  never  could  appreciate  anything 
but  a  good  dinner,  Komlossy." 

"Pardon  me;  you  forget  yourself"  he 
said,  suavely. 

"Ah,  then  you  actually  raise  me  to  the 
level  of  a  cook.  I  am  very  grateful." 

"Why  will  you  continue  to  disbelieve  in 
me.  I  came  all  the  way  to  Newport  to  see 
you." 

"From  New  York,  not  Japan,"  she  in 
terrupted. 

' '  I  had  to  reach  New  York  first,  because 
my  ticket  read  that  way." 

"Well?" 


3io         THE   VICE   OF   FOOLS 

"I  am  sailing  for  France  on  Saturday." 

"And?" 

"I  wish  you  would  believe  I  am  seri 
ous." 

"About  what?" 

"About  you." 

She  burst  out  laughing.  "Oh,  really, 
that  is  too  much  to  ask." 

He  frowned.  "There  was  a  time  when 
I  thought  you  had  a  heart,  but  you  cured 
me  of  the  idea.  You  and,  indirectly, 
Brankovan!" 

"Ah,  my  heart  is  another  matter." 

"The  matter  is  that  you  have  never  ap 
preciated  me — my  devotion  I  mean." 

She  turned  suddenly,  and  looked  at  him. 
"Komlossy,"  she  said.  "Seriously  I  think 
you  are  a  dear  old  thing,  and  if  you  must 
know  the  truth,  I  am  quite  fond  of  you." 


PRINTED  AT  THE  LAKESIDE  PRESS 

FOR    HERBERT    S.   STONE    &    CO. 

PUBLISHERS,  CHICAGO 


THE  PUBLICATIONS  OF 
HERBERT  S.  STONE 
&  CO.  THE  CHAP-BOOK 
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CAXTON   BUILDING,  CHICAGO 

in  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 

1897 


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Ade,  George. 

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very  well  indeed,  and  we  feel  that  we  know  our 
Spain  better  by  reason  of  his  handsome  little 
book." — Boston  Traveler. 

"He  writes  pleasantly  and  impartially,  and  very 
fairly  sums  up  the  Spanish  character.  *  *  *  Mr. 
Taylor's  book  is  well  illustrated,  and  is  more  read 
able  than  the  reminiscences  of  the  average  globe 
trotter." — New  Tork  Sun. 


Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C. 

THE  VICE  OF  FOOLS  :  A  Novel  of  Society 
Life  in  Washington.  By  the  author  of 
"  The  Land  of  the  Castanet,"  «  Two 
Women  and  a  Fool,"  "  An  American 
Peeress"  etc.  With  ten  full  page  pictures 
by  Raymond  M.  Crosby.  l6mo.  $1.50. 

The  great  success  of  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor's  so 
ciety  novels  gives  assurance  of  a  large  sale  to  this 
new  story.  It  can  hardly  be  denied  that  few  per 
sons  in  this  country  are  better  qualified  to  treat 
the  "smart  set"  in  various  American  cities,  arid 
the  life  in  diplomatic  circles  offers  an  unusually 
picturesque  opportunity. 

D'Annunzio,  Gabriele. 

EPISCOPO  AND  COMPANY.  Translated 
by  Myrta  Leonora  Jones.  i6mo.  $1.25. 

Third  edition. 

Gabriele  d'Annunzio  is  the  best  known  and 
most  gifted  of  modern  Italian  novelists.  His  work 
is  making  a  great  sensation  at  present  in  all  lite 
rary  circles.  The  translation  now  offered  gave 
the  first  opportunity  English-speaking  readers 
had  to  know  him  in  their  own  language. 

De  Fontenoy,  The  Marquise. 

EVE'S  GLOSSARY.  By  the  author  of  "Queer 
Sprigs  of  Gentility,"  with  decorations  in 
two  colors  by  FRANK  HAZENPLUG.  fto. 

$3-5°. 

8 


An  amusing  volume  of  gossip  and  advice  for 
gentlewomen.  It  treats  of  health,  costume,  and 
entertainments;  exemplifies  by  reference  to  noted 
beauties  of  England  and  the  Continent;  and  is 
embellished  with  decorative  borders  of  great 
charm. 


Earle,  Alice  Morse. 

CURIOUS  PUNISHMENTS  OF  BYGONE 
DAYS,  with  twelve  quaint  pictures  and  a 
cover  design  by  FRANK.  HAZENPLUG. 

$1.50. 


"In  this  dainty  little  volume  Alice  Morse  Earle 
has  done  a  real  service,  not  only  to  present  read 
ers,  but  to  future  students  of  bygone  customs.  To 
come  upon  all  the  information  that  is  here  put 
into  readable  shape,  one  would  be  obliged  to  search 
through  many  ancient  and  cumbrous  records."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

"Mrs.  Alice  Morse  Earle  has  made  a  diverting 
and  edifying  book  in  her  '  Curious  Punishments 
of  Bygone  Days,'  which  is  published  in  a  style  of 
quaintness  befitting  the  theme."  —  New  Tork 
Tribune. 

"This  light  and  entertaining  volume  is  the  most 
recent  of  Mrs.Earle's  popular  antiquarian  sketches, 
and  will  not  fail  to  amuse  and  mildly  instruct 
readers  who  love  to  recall  the  grim  furnishings  and 
habits  of  previous  centuries,  without  too  much 
serious  consideration  of  the  root  from  which  they 
sprang,  the  circumstances  in  which  they  flour 
ished,  or  the  uses  they  served."  —  The  Independent. 


Embree,  Charles  Fleming. 

FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  TONITA,  AND  OTHER 

TALES  OF  THE  MESAS.  With  a  cover 
designed  by  FERNAND  LUNGREN.  i6mo. 
$1.25- 

Characteristic  and  breezy  stories  of  the  South 
west,  by  a  new  author.  Full  of  romantic  interest 
and  with  an  unusually  humorous  turn.  The  book 
coming  from  a  new  writer,  is  likely  to  be  a  real 
surprise.  The  cover  is  an  entirely  new  experi 
ment  in  bookbinding. 

Fletcher,  Horace. 

HAPPINESS  AS  FOUND  IN  FORETHOUGHT 
MINUS  FEARTHOUGHT,  AND  OTHER 
SUGGESTIONS  IN  MENTICULTURE.  i2mo. 
$1.00. 

The  enormous  popularity  of  Mr.  Fletcher's 
simple  philosophy,  as  shown  in  the  sale  of  his 
first  volume,  "  Menticulture  "  is  a  sufficient  evi 
dence  of  the  prospects  of  the  new  book.  In  it  he 
develops  further  the  ideas  of  menticulture  and 
urges  with  energy  and  directness  his  plea  for  the 
avoidance  of  worry. 

Fletcher,  Horace. 

MENTICULTURE  :  or  the  A-B-C  of  True 
Living.  I2mo.  $1.00. 

Nineteenth  thousand. 

Transferred  by  the  author  to  the  present  publishers. 
IO 


Gordon,  Julien. 

EAT  NOT  THY  HEART  :  A  Novel.  By 
the  author  of"  A  Diplomat's  Diary,"  etc. 
i6mo,  $1.25. 

Life  on  Long  Island  at  a  luxurious  country 
place,  is  the  setting  for  this  story,  and  Mrs. 
Cruger's  dialogue  is  as  crisp,  as  witty,  as  satirical 
of  the  foibles  of  fashionable  life  as  ever.  She  has 
tried  a  new  experiment,  however,  in  making  a 
study  of  a  humbler  type,  the  farmer's  wife,  and 
her  ineffectual  jealousy  of  the  rich  city  people. 

Hapgood,  Norman. 

LITERARY  STATESMEN  AND  OTHERS. 
A  book  of  essays  on  men  seen  from  a  distance. 
I2mo.  $1.50. 

Essays  from  one  of  our  younger  writers,  who  is 
already  well  known  as  a  man  of  promise,  and  who 
has  been  given  the  unusual  distinction  of  starting 
his  career  by  unqualified  acceptance  from  the  En 
glish  reviews.  Scholarly,  incisive,  and  thought 
ful  essays  which  will  be  a  valuable  contribution  to 
contemporary  criticism. 

Hichens,  Robert. 

FLAMES  :  A  Novel.  By  the  author  of "  A 
Green  Carnation"  "  An  Imaginative 
Man,"  "  The  Folly  of  Eustace,"  etc.,  with 
a  cover  design  by  F.  R.  KIMBROUGH. 
I2mo.  $1.50.  Second  edition . 


"The  book  is  sure  to  be  widely  read." — Buffalo 
Commercial. 

"It  carries  on  the  attention  of  the  reader  from 
the  first  chapter  to  the  last.  Full  of  exciting  in 
cidents,  very  modern,  excessively  up  to  date." — 
London  Daily  Telegraph. 

"  In  his  last  book  Mr.  Hichens  has  entirely 
proved  himself.  His  talent  does  not  so  much  lie 
in  the  conventional  novel,  but  more  in  his  strange 
and  fantastic  medium.  '  Flames  '  suits  him,  has 
him  at  his  best." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"'Flames,'  "  says  the  London  Chronicle,  in  along 
editorial  on  the  story,  "  is  a  cunning  blend  of  the 
romantic  and  the  real,  the  work  of  a  man  who  can 
observe,  who  can  think,  who  can  imagine,  and  who 
can  write." 

'"Flames'  is  a  powerful  story,  not  only  for  the 
novelty  of  its  plot,  but  for  the  skill  with  which  it 
is  worked  out,  the  brilliancy  of  its  descriptions  of 
the  London  streets,  of  the  seamy  side  of  the  city's 
life  which  night  turns  to  the  beholder;  but  the 
descriptions  are  neither  erotic  nor  morbid.  *  *  * 
We  may  repudiate  the  central  idea  of  soul-trans 
ference,  but  the  theory  is  made  the  vehicle  of 
this  striking  tale  in  a  manner  that  is  entirely  sane 
and  wholesome.  It  leaves  no  bad  taste  in  the 
mouth.  *  *  *  'Flames' — it  is  the  author's 
fancy  that  the  soul  is  like  a  little  flame,  and  hence 
the.  title — must  be  read  with  care.  There  is  much 
brilliant  epigrammatic  writing  in  it  that  will 
delight  the  literary  palate.  It  is  far  and  away 
ahead  of  anything  that  Mr.  Hichens  has  ever  writ 
ten  before." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

James,  Henry. 

WHAT  MAISIE  KNEW  :   A  novel.    I2mo. 

$1-50- 


The  publication  of  a  new  novel — one  quite  un 
like  his  previous  work — by  Mr.  Henry  James, 
cannot  fail  to  be  an  event  of  considerable  literary 
importance.  During  its  appearance  in  the  Chap- 
Book,  the  story  has  been  a  delight  to  many  read 
ers.  As  the  first  study  of  child-life  which  Mr. 
James  has  ever  attempted,  it  is  worth  the  attention 
of  all  persons  interested  in  English  and  American 
letters. 

Kinross,  Albert. 

THE  FEARSOME  ISLAND  ;  Being  a  mod 
ern  rendering  of  the  narrative  of  one 
Silas  Fordred,  Master  Mariner  of  Hythe, 
whose  shipwreck  and  subsequent  adventures 
are  herein  set  forth.  Also  an  appendix, 
accounting,  in  a  rational  manner,  for  the 
seeming  marvels  that  Silas  Fordred  en 
countered  during  his  sojourn  on  the  fearsome 
island  of  Don  Diego  Rodriguez.  With  a 
cover  designed  by  FRANK  HAZENPLUG. 
i6mo.  $1.25. 

Le  Gallienne,  Richard. 

PROSE  FANCIES  :  Second  series.  By  the 
author  of  "The  Book-Bills  of  Narcissus," 
"The  Quest  of  the  Golden  Girl,"  etc. 
With  a  cover  designed  by  FRANK  HAZEN 
PLUG.  l6mo.  $1.25.  Second  edition. 

"  In  these  days  of  Beardsley  pictures  and  deca 
dent  novels,  it  is  good  to  find  a  book  as  sweet,  as 

13 


pure,  as    delicate   as   Mr.  Le    Gallienne's." — New 
Orleans  Picayune. 

'"Prose  Fancies'  ought  to  be  in  every  one's 
summer  library,  for  it  is  just  the  kind  of  a  book 
one  loves  to  take  to  some  secluded  spot  to  read 
and  dream  over." — Kansas  City  Times. 

"  There  are  witty  bits  of  sayings  by  the  score, 
and  sometimes  whole  paragraphs  of  nothing  but 
wit.  Somewhere  there  is  a  little  skit  about  '  Scot 
land,  the  country  that  takes  its  name  from  the 
whisky  made  there';  and  the  transposed  proverbs, 
like  '  It  is  an  ill  wind  for  the  shorn  lamb,'  and 
'  Many  rise  on  the  stepping-stones  of  their  dead 
relations,'  are  brilliant.  'Most  of  us  would  never 
be  heard  of  were  it  not  for  our  enemies,'  is  a  cap 
ital  epigram." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"  Mr.  Le  Gallienneis  first  of  all  a  poet,  and  these 
little  essays,  which  savor  somewhat  of  Lamb,  of 
Montaigne,  of  Lang,  and  of  Birrell,  are  larded 
with  verse  of  exquisite  grace.  He  rarely  ventures 
into  the  grotesque,  but  his  fancy  follows  fair 
paths;  a  certain  quaintness  of  expression  and  the 
idyllic  atmosphere  of  the  book  charm  one  at  the 
beginning  and  carry  one  through  the  nineteen 
'fancies'  that  comprise  the  volume." — Chicago 
Record. 

Magruder,  Julia. 

Miss  AYR  OF  VIRGINIA,  AND  OTHER 
STORIES.  By  the  author  of  "The  Princess 
Sonia,"  "  The  Violet^  etc.  With  a 
cover-design  by  F.  R.  KIMBROUGH.  i6mo. 
£1.25. 

"By  means  of  original  incident  and  keen  por 
traiture,  '  Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia,  and  Other  Stories,' 

14 


is  made  a  decidedly  readable  collection.  In  the 
initial  tale  the  character  of  the  young  Southern 
girl  is  especially  well  drawn;  Miss  Magruder's 
most  artistic  work,  however,  is  found  at  the  end 
of  the  volume,  under  the  title  '  Once  More.' " — The 
Outlook. 

"The  contents  of 'Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia'  are  not 
less  fascinating  than  the  cover.  *  *  *  These 
tales  *  *  *  are  a  delightful  diversion  for  a 
spare  hour.  They  are  dreamy  without  being  can 
didly  realistic,  and  are  absolutely  refreshing  in 
the  simplicity  of  the  author's  style." — Boston 
Herald. 

"Julia  Magruder's  stories  are  so  good  that  one 
feels  like  reading  passages  here  and  there  again 
and  again.  In  the  collection,  '  Miss  Ayr  of  Vir 
ginia,  and  other  stories,'  she  is  at  her  best,  and 
'Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia,'  has  all  the  daintiness,  the 
point  and  pith  and  charm  which  the  author  so 
well  commands.  The  portraiture  of  a  sweet,  un 
sophisticated,  pretty,  smart  Southern  girl  is  be 
witching." — Minneapolis  Times. 

Malet,  Lucas. 

THE  CARISSIMA  :  A  modern  grotesque* 
By  the  author  of  "  The  Wages  of  «$/«," 
etc.  I2mo.  $1.50.  Second  edition. 

*^*This  is  the  first  novel  which  Lucas  Malet 
has  written  since  "The  Wages  of  Sin." 

"The  strongest  piece  of  fiction  written  during 
the  year,  barring  only  the  masters,  Meredith  and 
Thomas  Hardy." — Kansas  City  Star. 

"  There  are  no  dull  pages  in  '  The  Carissima,'  no 
perfunctory  people.  Every  character  that  goes  in 
and  out  on  the  mimic  stage  is  fully  rounded,  and 
the  central  one  provokes  curiosity,  like  those  of 


that  Sphinx  among  novelists,  Mr.  Henry  James. 
Lucas  Malet  has  caught  the  very  trick  of  James's 
manner,  and  the  likeness  presses  more  than 
once." — Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

"The  interest  throughout  the  story  is  intense 
and  perfectly  sustained.  The  character-drawing 
is  as  good  as  it  can  be.  The  Carissima,  her  father, 
and  a  journalistic  admirer  are,  in  particular,  abso 
lute  triumphs.  The  book  is  wonderfully  witty, 
and  has  touches  of  genuine  pathos,  more  than  two 
and  more  than  three.  It  is  much  better  than  any 
thing  else  we  have  seen  from  the  same  hand." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"Lucas  Malet  has  insight,  strength,  the  gift  of 
satire,  and  a  captivating  brilliance  of  touch;  in 
short,  a  literary  equipment  such  as  not  too  many 
present-day  novelists  are  possessed  of." — London 
Daily  Mail. 

"We  cannot  think  of  readers  as  skipping  a  line 
or  failing  to  admire  the  workmanship,  or  to  be 
deeply  interested,  both  in  the  characters  and  the 
plot.  '  Carissima '  is  likely  to  add  to  the  reputa 
tion  of  the  author  of  '  The  Wages  of  Sin.'" — Glas 
gow  Herald. 

Merrick,  Leonard. 

ONE  MAN'S  VIEW.  By  the  author  of 
"A  Daughter  of  the  Philistines"  etc. 
l6mo.  $1.00. 

The  story  of  an  ambitious  American  girl  and 
her  attempts  to  get  on  the  English  stage,  her  mar 
riage  and  subsequent  troubles,  and  the  final  hap 
piness  of  every  one.  The  author's  point  of  view 
and  the  story  itself  are  unusual  and  interesting. 

"Very  well  told."—  The  Outlook. 
16 


"Clever  and  original." — Charleston  Ne-ws  and 
Courier. 

"  Eminently  readable." — New  Orleans  Timts- 
Democrat. 

"  A  highly  emotional,  sensational  story  of  much 
literary  merit." — Chicago  Inter  Ocean, 

"  A  novel  over  which  we  could  fancy  ourselves 
sitting  up  till  the  small  hours."  —  London  Daily 
Chronicle. 

"  A  really  remarkable  piece  of  fiction  *  *  * 
a  saving  defense  against  dullness  that  may  come 
in  vacation  times." — Kansas  City  Star. 

Moore,  F.  Frankfort. 

THE     IMPUDENT    COMEDIAN    AND 
OTHERS.     Illustrated.      I2mo.      $1.50. 

"Several  of  the  stories  have  appeared  in  the 
Chap-Book;  others  are  now  published  for  the  first 
time.  They  all  relate  to  seventeenth  and  eigh 
teenth  century  characters  —  Nell  Gwynn,  Kitty 
Clive,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  Dr.  Johnson,  and  David 
Garrick.  They  are  bright,  witty,  and  dramatic. 

"  Capital  short  stories." — Brooklyn  Eagle, 

"  A  thing  of  joy." — Buffalo  Express. 

"The  person  who  has  a  proper  eye  to  the  artis 
tic  in  fiction  will  possess  them  ere  another  day  shall 
dawn." — Scranton  Tribune. 

"Full  of  the  mannerisms  of  the  stage  and  thor 
oughly  Bohemian  in  atmosphere." — Boston  Herald. 

"The  celebrated  actresses  whom  he  takes  for 
his  heroines  sparkle  with  feminine  liveliness  of 
mind." — New  Tork  Tribune. 

"  A  collection  of  short  stories  which  has  a  flash 
of  the  picturesqueness,  the  repartee,  the  dazzle  of 

17 


the  age  of  Garrick  and  Goldsmith,  of  Peg  Wof- 
fington  and  Kitty  Olive." — Hartford  Courant. 

"The  stories  are  well  conceived  and  amusing, 
bearing  upon  every  page  the  impress  of  an  inti 
mate  study  of  the  fascinating  period  wherein  they 
are  laid."—  The  Dial. 

"Mr. 'F.  Frankfort  Moore  had  a  capital  idea 
when  he  undertook  to  throw  into  story  form  some 
of  the  traditional  incidents  of  the  history  of  the 
stage  in  its  earlier  English  days.  Nell  Gwynn, 
Kitty  Clive,  Mrs.  Siddons,  Mrs.  Abington,  and 
others  are  cleverly  depicted,  with  much  of  the 
swagger  and  flavor  of  their  times." — The  Outlook. 

Moore,  F.  Frankfort. 

THE  JESSAMY  BRIDE  :  A  Novel.  By 
the  author  of"  The  Impudent  Comedian.'" 
I2mo.  $1.50. 

A  novel  of  great  interest,  introducing  as  its 
chief  characters  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Garrick, 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  others.  It  is  really  a 
companion  volume  to  "The  Impudent  Comedian." 
The  first  large  English  edition  of  "The  Jessamy 
Bride  "  was  exhausted  before  publication.  The 
great  popularity  of  his  other  books  is  sufficient 
guaranty  of  the  entertaining  qualities  of  this  latest 
volume. 

"Admirably  done." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  It  is  doubtful  if  anything  he  has  written  will 
be  as  well  and  as  widely  appreciated  as  'The 
Jessamy  Bride.'  " — Kansas  City  Times. 

"This  story  seems  to  me  the  strongest  and  sin- 
cerest  bit  of  fiction  I  have  read  since  "Quo 
Vadis." — George  Merriam  Hyde  in  The  Book 
Buyer. 

18 


"A  novel  in  praise  of  the  most  lovable  of  men 
of  letters,  not  even  excepting  Charles  Lamb,  must 
be  welcome,  though  in  it  the  romance  of  Gold 
smith's  life  may  be  made  a  little  too  much  of  for 
strict  truth  *  *  *  Mr.  Moore  has  the  history 
of  the  time  and  of  the  special  circle  at  his  finger- 
ends.  He  has  lived  in  its  atmosphere,  and  his 
transcripts  are  full  of  vivacity.  *  *  *  'The 
Jessamy  Bride  '  is  a  very  good  story,  and  Mr. 
Moore  has  never  written  anything  else  so  chival 
rous  to  man  or  woman." — The  Bookman. 

Morrison,  Arthur. 

A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO.      By  the  author 

of  "  Tales    of  Mean    Streets ."        I2mo. 

$1.50.  Second  edition. 

"  The  book  is  a  masterpiece." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"The  unerring  touch  of  a  great  artist." — London 

Daily  Graphic. 

"  Told  with  great  vigour  and  powerful  simplic 
ity." — Athenaeum. 

"  Remarkable  power,  and  even  more  remarka 
ble  restraint." — London  Daily  Mail. 

"  A  novel  that  will  rank  alone  as  a  picture  of 
low-class  London  life." — Ne~w  Saturday. 

"The  power  and  art  of  the  book  are  beyond 
question." — Hartford  Courant. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  notable  books  of  the 
year." — Chicago  Daily  News. 

'"A  Child  of  the  Jago'will  prove  one  of  the 
immediate  and  great  successes  of  the  season." — 
Boston  Times. 

"The  description  of  the  great  fight  between 
Josh  Perrott  and  Billy  Leary  is  a  masterpiece." 
— Punch. 

19 


"Never,  certainly,  a  book  with  such  a  scene  on 
which  so  much  artistic  care  has  been  lavished. 
*  *  The  reader  has  no  choice  but  to  be  con 
vinced." — Review  of  Reviews. 

"  Mr.  ArthurMorrison  has  already  distinguished 
himself  (in  his  Tales  of  Mean  Streets')  as  a  deline 
ator  of  the  lives  of  the  East -end  poor,  but  his 
present  book  takes  a  deeper  hold  on  us." — London 
Times. 

"Is  indeed  indisputably  one  of  the  most  inter 
esting  novels  this  year  has  produced.  *  *  One 
of  those  rare  and  satisfactory  novels  in  which 
almost  every  sentence  has  its  share  in  the  entire 
design." — Saturday  Review. 

"  Since  Daniel  Defoe,  no  such  consummate 
master  of  realistic  fiction  has  arisen  among  us  as 
Mr.  Arthur  Morrison.  Hardly  any  praise  could 
be  too  much  for  .the  imaginative  power  and  artis 
tic  perfection  and  beauty  of  this  picture  of  the  de 
praved  and  loathsome  phases  of  human  life. 
There  is  all  of  Defoe's  fidelity  of  realistic  detail, 
suffused  with  the  light  and  warmth  of  a  genius 
higher  and  purer  than  Defoe's." — Scotsman. 

"It  more  than  fulfills  the  promise  of  'Tales  of 
Mean  Streets' — it  makes  you  confident  that  Mr. 
Morrison  has  yet  better  work  to  do.  The  power 
displayed  is  magnificent,  and  the  episode  of  the 
murder  of  Weech,  '  fence  '  and  '  nark,'  and  of  the 
capture  and  trial  of  his  murderer,  is  one  that 
stamps  itself  upon  the  memory  as  a  thing  done 
once  and  for  all.  Perrott  in  the  dock,  or  as  he 
awaits  the  executioner,  is  a  fit  companion  of  Fagin 
condemned.  The  book  cannot  but  confirm  the 
admirers  of  Mr.  Morrison's  remarkable  talent  in 
the  opinions  they  formed  on  reading  '  Tales  of 
Mean  Streets.' " — Black  and  White. 


Powell,  Richard  Stillman. 
(See  Bickford,  L.  H.) 

Pritchard,  Martin  J. 

WITHOUT  SIN:    A  novel.    I2mo.  $1.50. 

Third  edition. 

*a*The  New  York  Journal  gave  a  half-page 
review  of  the  book  and  proclaimed  it  "  the  most 
startling  novel  jet." 

"Abounds  in  situations  of  thrilling  interest.  A 
unique  and  daring  book." — Review  of  Reviews 
(London). 

"One  is  hardly  likely  to  go  far  wrong  in  pre 
dicting  that  '  Without  Sin'  will  attract  abundant 
notice.  Too  much  can  scarcely  be  said  in  praise 
of  Mr.  Pritchard's  treatment  of  his  subject." — 
Academy. 

"The  very  ingenious  way  in  which  improbable 
incidents  are  made  to  appear  natural,  the  ingenious 
manner  in  which  the  story  is  sustained  to  the  end, 
the  undoubted  fascination  of  the  writing  and  the 
convincing  charm  of  the  principal  characters,  are 
just  what  make  this  novel  so  deeply  dangerous 
while  so  intensely  interesting."  —  Tfie  World 
(London). 

Pool,  Maria  Louise. 

IN  BUNCOMBE  COUNTY.    i6mo.    $1.25. 

Second  edition. 

"  '  In  Buncombe  County  '  is  bubbling  over  with 
merriment  —  one  could  not  be  blue  with  such  a 
companion  for  an  hour." — Bnsfon  Times. 


"  Maria  Louise  Pool  is  a  joy  forever,  principally 
because  she  so  nobly  disproves  the  lurking  theory 
that  women  are  born  destitute  of  humor.  Hers  is 
not  acquired;  it  is  the  real  thing.  'In  Buncombe 
County '  is  perfect  with  its  quiet  appreciation  of 
the  humorous  side  of  the  everyday  affairs  of  life." 
— Chicago  Daily  News. 

"It  is  brimming  over  with  humor,  and  the 
reader  who  can  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  redbird 
alone,  who  flutters  through  the  first  few  chapters, 
and  not  be  moved  to  long  laughter,  must  be  sadly 
insensitive.  But  laugh  as  he  may,  he  will  always 
revert  to  the  graver  vein  which  unobtrusively 
runs  from  the  first  to  the  last  page  in  the  book. 
He  will  lay  down  the  narrative  of  almost  gro 
tesque  adventure  with  a  keen  remembrance  of  its 
tenderness  and  pathos." — New  Tork  Tribune. 

Raimond,  C.  E. 

THE  FATAL  GIFT  OF  BEAUTY,  AND 
OTHER  STORIES.  By  the  Author  of 
"  George  Mandeville  s  Husband"  etc. 
i6mo.  $1.25. 

A  book  of  stories  which  will  not  quickly  be  sur 
passed  for  real  humor,  skillful  characterization 
and  splendid  entertainment.  "The  Confessions 
of  a  Cruel  Mistress  "  is  a  masterpiece,  and  the 
"  Portman  Memoirs"  exceptionally  clever. 

Rossetti,  Christina. 

MAUDE  :  Prose  and  Verse.  With  a  pref 
ace  by  William  Michael  Rossetti.  l6mo. 
&X.OO. 


THE  CHAP-BOOK 

A  Semi-Monthly  Miscellany  and  Review  of  Belles-Lettres.  Price,  10 
cents  a  copy;  $2.00  a  year. 

"  The  Chap-Book  is  indispensable.  In  its  new  form,  as  a  literary  re 
view,  it  fills  an  important  place  in  our  magazine  literature." — Rochester 
Post-Express. 

"  The  new  Chap-Book  is  an  imposing  and  inspiriting  production  to  take 
in  the  hands,  and  it  is  opened  with  an  anticipatory  zest  that  is  rewarded 
simply  by  a  reading  of  the  contents." — Providence  Neivs. 

"  The  notes  are  vivacious  and  vigorous.  The  literary  quality  is  what 
one  has  a  right  to  expect  from  a  literary  journal,  and  we  heartily  welcome 
the  new  Chap-Book  to  our  table." — The  Watchman. 

"  In  its  enlarged  form  the  magazine  has  taken  on  a  somewhat  more 
serious  aspect  than  it  carried  in  its  first  estate,  but  it  has  lost  none  of  its 
crispness  and  interest." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  As  we  glance  through  the  Chap-Book  we  are  newly  charmed  with 
the  excellence  of  its  book  reviews.  Of  course  it  has  other  features  of  interest 
—  notably  the  introductory  "notes"  that  give  in  a  genteel  way  the  freshest 
gossip  of  the  aristocracy  of  letters  —  but  for  our  part  we  turn  at  once  to  the 
book  reviews,  for  we  know  that  there  we  can  be  sure  of  being  at  once  in 
structed  and  entertained.  Whoever  they  are  that  produce  this  copy — and 
being  anonymous,  one  has  no  clue  —  they  deserve  rich  recompense  of  cakes 
and  wine,  and,  betimes,  a  lift  in  salary,  for  they  do  know  how  to  review." 
— Scranton  Tribune. 

THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL 

A  Monthly  Magazine  devoted  to  Houses  and  Homes.  Articles  on  Rugs, 
•Furniture,  Pottery  >  Silverware,  and  Bookbindings;  Prints,  Engravings,  and 
Etchings;  Interior  and  Exterior  Decoration,  etc.  Abundantly  illustrated. 
It  is  a  magazine  of  general  interest,  and  appreciative  rather  than  technical 
•in  character.  10  cents  a  copy;  $i  oo  a  year.  Sample  copies  sent  for  five 
two-cent  stamps. 

"  The  House  Beautiful,  for  its  sincerity  of  purpose  and  dignified  ful 
filment  of  its  aim,  so  far,  should  be  highly  commended,  The  third  number 
contains  some  exquisite  illustrations.  *  *  Some  good  reviews  and 
notes  follow  the  articles,  and  a  really  useful  magazine,  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
come  well  established,  is  thus  kept  on  its  course." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 
"  Throughout,  this  magazine  is  governed  by  good  taste  to  a  degree  which 
is  almost  unique." — Indianapolis  News. 

"There  is  room  for  a  magazine  like    The  House  Beautiful,  and  the 
third  number  of  that  excellent  monthly  indicates  that  the  void  is  in  a  fair 
led.     I 

JI.UIIO    V,l     >>"""> 

ng  Way  u«       vvtmicn  euiu  Ajmjn.uiiiumg    .     — <**mt.agu   j.  7  ivurte. 

"  The  House  Beautiful  is  the  title  of  the  new  monthly  which  deals 
principally  with  art  as  applied  to  industry  and  the  household.  *  *  It 
seems  to  be  a  magazine  which  will  have  a  permanent  use  and  interest." — 
Worcester  Spy. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers,  or  will  be  sent,  postpaid, 
by  the  publishers,  on  receipt  of  price. 

HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  COMPANY 

Caxton  Bldg,  Chicago  Constable  Bldg.,  New  York 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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